


Outnumbered

by ForForever19



Category: Glee, Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Faberry, F/F, Older Quinn & Rachel, Teenage Beca & Chloe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 167,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/ForForever19
Summary: With new teachers determined to shake things up and a new girl prompting new, unexpected feelings, Chloe's senior year is turning into something she never expected.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Quinn Fabray & Chloe Beale, Rachel Berry & Beca Mitchell, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 284
Kudos: 824





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee or Pitch Perfect Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**I**

Chloe Beale does not expect her senior year of high school to start out this way.

It's true, when she was younger, she didn't give it all that much thought but, now that she's finally reached this milestone, it feels somewhat... lack lustre. Disappointing, in a way.

It's supposed to be their big year; their final chance to put a stamp on this tiny world they've been a part of for years, and it's all just... blah.

Chloe has the words to describe it, obviously, but she's not in the mood. She's in a terrible mood, actually, and it's so unlike her. She just wants this year to be great, but it's already off to a terrible start.

First, after the horror show that was their show choir's performance at Nationals the previous year - she'll never actually bring up the puking incident, but it haunts her - the Bellas have been scrapped. Which, okay, is heartbreaking, and she spent two entire days crying about it when she found out over the summer. Apparently, their Director, Adam Townsend, just up and quit.

Well, the rumour is that he ran away with their cheerleading coach, Juniper Stone, leaving his wife and two kids behind. It's quite the scandal, of course, but it just adds to why Chloe's senior year is already in shambles.

They don't have a cheerleading coach, either, which means that's another extramural that's up in the air for her this year. They actually spent their allotted time for Cheer Camp for the summer just running drills, working on fitness and practicing old routines. Aubrey, their Captain, can be a bit of a slave driver when she's in the mood.

And, apparently, she's always in the mood.

Chloe is in an entirely other one when she arrives at school on the first day of her senior year, wondering if they should even be wearing their cheerleading uniforms at all. All this uncertainty has her wanting to crawl back into bed and emerge only when the world makes sense again.

She's busy trying to come up with what else she could possibly do to bolster her college application, when Aubrey appears out of nowhere and links their arms.

"I'm guessing you haven't checked your email this morning," Aubrey says in lieu of a greeting.

Chloe makes a sound of assent.

Aubrey rolls her eyes. "We have a new coach, Chlo," she says, carefully explaining as she leads the way into the main building. "Schuester emailed about her this morning. Apparently, she's an old student of McKinley, won Nationals three times, and she served under the legendary Sue Sylvester."

Chloe, of course, has heard of Sue Sylvester, and that's more than enough to frighten her. If this new woman is anything like her, well, then maybe Chloe wishes this year stays exactly the way it was shaping up to be.

Of course, as they walk, the students part like the Red Sea for them. Chloe's never managed to get used to it, but she appreciates not having to weave through endless bodies to get to her destination. She waves at a few of them as she goes, sporting her patented Chloe Beale smile, because she's actually genuinely happy to see a few of them.

Aubrey just scowls - as she is known to do - and it's always been an enigma to the greater population how the two of them even ended up as friends. Chloe would tell them if she knew. Aubrey likes to joke that Chloe just kind of latched onto her their freshman year, and hasn't ever let go. It's about as accurate as it's going to get, really.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Chloe asks, even as they pass by the main reception, where they're supposed to pick up their classroom packages. She doesn't want to double back, especially when she knows the senior lockers are in the Science Block, which is the direction they're headed.

"To introduce ourselves," Aubrey says, as if it's the most obvious thing.

Chloe just hums, figuring that's probably the right thing to do, as captains of the cheerleading squad. She also has to admit she's curious to know who managed to win three Titles and survive Sue Sylvester to be able to tell the world about it.

Aubrey ends up leading them to the Language Block, and it's a surprise but also not to learn this new woman is also going to be teaching English. Chloe absently wonders if she'll have her for anything this year.

"It's this one," Aubrey says as they approach a classroom that Chloe remembers belonging to Mrs Asher, who retired last year. Chloe wasn't ever taught by the woman, but she seemed nice enough. She hopes her replacement isn't some kind of dictator.

The thought, along with everything else in her head, disappears to nothing when Aubrey knocks once on the open door and then steps inside, Chloe following, to reveal the most stunning woman Chloe has ever seen.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for Chloe - she's been able to appreciate the female form's aesthetic beauty before - but she seems to be discovering several truths about herself, and her senior year is really off to a _great_ start.

The woman turns as they step inside, a smile already on her face at the sight of them. "Oh, hello."

Aubrey doesn't seem as caught off guard as Chloe is, stepping forward immediately and holding out her hand. "Good morning, Dr Fabray," she says. "My name is Aubrey Posen, Captain of the Cheerios."

The woman blinks, momentarily surprised, before she shakes Aubrey's hand. "Ah," she sounds, obviously taking in their uniforms. "Aubrey, right." She looks at Chloe. "And you must be Chloe Beale, my Vice."

Chloe would squeal, but she doesn't. Instead, she shakes the outstretched hand and manages to smile. "Hi," she says.

The woman, Dr Fabray, nods once, and then steps back. "So, you're supposed to be the two I'm going to be relying on to get us to Nationals, huh?"

Aubrey nods. "We're very determined, Dr Fabray."

Dr Fabray winces. "Maybe we'll go with 'Coach' when we're discussing Cheerio things," she says. "Dr Fabray seems like a mouthful."

Aubrey nods. "We're scheduled to have our first practice tomorrow," she says.

Dr Fabray leans back slightly. "Right," she says. "We're not doing that."

Aubrey looks stumped, as if the woman has thrown her completely. "We're not?"

"No," Dr Fabray says. "I've already sent an announcement to the office. I'm holding tryouts on Thursday."

"Tryouts?"

Dr Fabray shifts in place, her facial expression changing into something serious; almost predatory. "It seems to me the squad isn't... good enough. I would never stand for finishing anything less than third at Nationals. It's disappointing, and it seems to me we might need to do an entire overhaul of the squad."

"Overhaul?" Aubrey parrots, her jaw slack.

Dr Fabray nods, a slight twinkle in her eye, and Chloe might love her already. "I suggest you let your squad know none of their positions is safe," she says. "I want only the best and, if they're not, I'm going to scour this entire school until I find them." She nods once, and then seems to have a thought. "Also, I don't want to see these uniforms during school unless it's a game day. I suggest you figure out your new school wardrobe."

Aubrey looks a little shellshocked, but Chloe can't contain her smile. It's threatening to bloom and, when they finally take their leave, Dr Fabray shoots her a wink.

If Chloe blushes, trips over herself and swears entirely too loudly, well, only she knows the real reason why.

* * *

Predictably, Aubrey rants the entire day about Dr Fabray wanting to ruin her life, and Chloe hums in agreement every few sentences, even if she's not even listening. They don't share all the same classes - which is sometimes a relief - so Chloe gets a break from Aubrey's complaints from time to time.

The most important period they do share, though, is their free period, which they usually spend in the library or the Choir Room, either working on homework or discussing their various extracurricular commitments.

Chloe _loves_ the Choir Room.

It's one of her safe places, where she can sometimes turn off 'Chloe Beale' and just _be_. It's usually empty at this time of day, which is why it's a surprise to walk into the room to find a brunette woman sifting through the vast collection of sheet music they've managed to accumulate over the years.

Chloe comes to a stop when she sees her, unsure what to do.

The woman is humming to herself, something that sounds like Adele, and Chloe is curious. It's one of her flaws, perhaps, just blindly walking into situations to settle her own curiosity.

It's when the woman starts singing softly that Chloe can't take it anymore, and she purposefully scuffs her shoe against the linoleum, startling the woman. She turns immediately, her chestnut eyes wide. And, yeah, of course she's stunning.

Chloe kind of hates her life a little, because, seriously, who are all these new women just coming to ruin everything?

"Hello," the woman says, smiling. "Can I help you?"

Chloe smiles, because she's tempted to ask the same question. "Just thought I would introduce myself," she says. "I'm Chloe Beale."

"Rachel Berry," the woman says, and Chloe thinks she recognises the name from somewhere. "The new Music Director," she adds on.

Chloe's eyes widen. "They hired someone new?" she asks, unable to keep the disbelief and excitement out of her voice. "I thought for sure they'd give the job to Mr St James."

The woman winces. "I wouldn't say that too loud. It's a bit of a sore subject for him."

Chloe nods quickly, her ponytail bouncing. "Got it," she says. "If you're here now... Miss Berry, can I call you that? If you're here now, does that mean we get our show choir back?"

"Uh, it's actually Dr Berry," she says, almost offhandedly, and then quickly moves on, as if she wishes she didn't make the correction. "Which show choir is this?"

"The Bellas," Chloe explains, her excitement growing. "I'm sure you know, but the old Music Director kind of disappeared and, after our loss last year, the only show choir left is the all-male Treblemakers."

"Treblemakers?"

"They're awful," Chloe says, shaking her head. "Mr St James is their director, as Deputy Music Director, and he said if he became the new Music Director, he would scrap us."

Dr Berry just nods, and Chloe wonders if she's overwhelmed her. She seems to do that sometimes, even without trying. "You seem very passionate," she observes.

"Oh, sorry," Chloe says, used to having to apologise for her overzealousness.

"Don't be," she says, waving a hand. "It's actually refreshing. I like it."

"Oh?"

"Chloe, you said?" Dr Berry steps forward. "I'm still getting settled in here; getting my bearings, as it were. My intention is to do an overhaul of the entire Music Department."

Chloe finds herself smiling.

"Is something funny?"

"What? No, it's just that's the second time I've heard that today," she says.

Dr Berry's smile is a little knowing, and Chloe finds herself staring at the woman's mouth. "I imagine so," she says, and then clears her throat. "I can tell you that it's unlikely I'll allow only the boys to compete in show choir, so you can rest assured there will be some changes made."

Chloe's smile splits her face.

"Now, tell me more about these, um, Bellas."

Chloe doesn't need to be told twice, jumping at the opportunity to gush about being able to sing and dance on stage. She's in the middle of her flowery tale when Aubrey arrives, looking a little wary of the new woman existing in what is their safe space.

When Dr Berry makes plans for holding auditions on Wednesday afternoon, Aubrey grumbles to herself once more, but Chloe has never been happier.

This year is turning into something she never expected.

* * *

It never occurs to Chloe it could actually end up better than that.

Or worse.

Before it gets better.

Just, it definitely turns out better than she could have ever imagined.

* * *

Quinn Fabray is many things, but patient isn't one of them. She thinks it's managed to get worse with age, but there's really nothing to be done.

It's just, you know, high school students are awful.

After spending the last almost fifteen years dealing with college students, making the jump to high school ones is a bit of a steep learning curve that lasts until just her fourth period of the day.

Oh.

Somehow, she's managed to forget just how immature high school boys can be, and it's worse that she's going to be teaching only upperclassmen. She's pretty sure she's met Noah Puckerman's clone - in personality, mainly - and she's having some kind of Pavlovian response to the sight of him.

Being called hot in front of the class doesn't help.

Quinn barely reacts as the boy makes a fool of himself by disrupting her class in an attempt to objectify her. She's been in these positions before, obviously. Quinn is well aware she's attractive. She looks after herself well, and it's difficult to believe she's pushed three children out of her body.

But, as far as she's concerned, she's very happily married, and this boy is merely a nuisance.

If he expects some kind of reaction from her, he's in for the shock of his life. Quinn barely blinks out of sync as she waits for him to run out of steam, the entire thing turning painfully awkward. She watches in silence as the boy tries to get his friend to help him out, but he gets nothing.

Quinn lets the following silence linger, and then shifts into a power-pose - not her own words - and arches a dangerous eyebrow. It's the HBIC in full force, and the boy gulps. He doesn't know she deals with terrorists for children every day.

"Mr Allen, was it?" Quinn asks, realising she needs to take the time to sort this out before it becomes a thing.

The boy nods.

"Are you done?"

He nods again.

"You sure?"

Another nod.

"Good," Quinn says. "Now that we've got that out of the way, I would really appreciate it if you would refrain from providing me with cause to report you for sexual harassment. It won't look too good on your college applications, I'm sorry to say."

Mr Allen - Bumper - just stares at her, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"May I begin my lesson now?" she asks, but doesn't wait for a reply as she does just that, feeling a little smug. At least she'll have something to say when they go around the dinner table and discuss their days.

Quinn is just getting started on explaining the proposed syllabus when a pair of wide, blue eyes manages to catch her gaze, and she sees Chloe Beale watching her with a bit of wonder in her eyes, and Quinn can't help her smile.

Suddenly, Quinn thinks she has far more than English to teach.

* * *

As far as first days go, Rachel Berry wouldn't say this is the worst.

At first - and she was laughed at quite considerably for it - she worried she would be triggered just walking through the McKinley corridors again, flinching at any sound, but she realises that was a little ridiculous.

They've abolished Big Gulps.

Rachel is relieved by it, even if it's unlikely she would be targeted as a member of the faculty.

Anyway.

The day, itself, goes well.

Part of her job description involves a lot of administrative work, budgeting and organising, as well as making sure students actually participate in music. The department has gone leaps and bounds since she attended McKinley, and she's jealous of these children in every way.

Now, they have private instrument sessions, various types of choirs and bands, and an upcoming school production that has her buzzing with anticipation.

On top of that, she's teaching the Upperclassmen Music classes, which have smaller groups. It's mainly history and theory, but they all play their own instruments, and Rachel almost bursts at the seams when she meets them.

It's quite a demanding job, if she allows herself to think about it. Which is why she's not sure why Jesse is so sour about her appointment. She knows he would hate the admin part of it, which is what she reminds him when he makes an off-handed comment about favouritism after the end of the staff meeting she holds at the end of her first day.

The department, itself, employs four members of staff full time, with specific instrument teachers contracted per the number of individual students they see. There's an entire music centre with small music rooms, each outfitted with a piano and music stands, newly built off the side of the auditorium.

It's glorious.

The Choir Room, though, is her haven, and she has a small office just off the open space, allowing her to stay right in the middle of all the musical excitement.

But, now, Jesse is putting a dampener on that.

The Rachel of old might have put up with it, but she's his boss, and she's been married to a sometimes-surly grump for fourteen years, so she knows a thing or two about putting people in their place.

"I see you're choosing not to be mature about this," she observes, carefully closing her folders and notebook.

"Come on, Rachel," he says, looking annoyed. "We all know I was a shoe-in for the job. I'm better qualified, and I've been here longer."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Better qualified?" she asks, her tone daring, because which one of them is the Doctor of Music?

Jesse looks a little sheepish. "To teach," he clarifies.

Rachel purses her lips. "Perhaps," she allows. "But, from what I hear, you'll be doing most of the teaching anyway. The Underclassmen have three classes each, which you're sharing with Peter and Elina. The Upper choir is also yours, while Peter and Elina share the Under one. I teach two classes, Jesse. I hardly think this job is something you have to be so hung up on."

"It was mine," he argues. "I was promised it."

"By the outgoing Director, or by the man who actually does the hiring?"

Jesse doesn't respond.

"If you have such a problem with it, by all means, speak to the Principal."

Jesse's eyes narrow. "The Principal is your friend."

Rachel shrugs. "Hmm, look what happens when you _don't_ burn all your old relationships," she says, smiling entirely too innocently.

Jesse opens his mouth to respond, but a quick knock at the Choir Room's door halts his speech, and his jaw drops when Quinn Fabray strolls into the room, looking as put together as ever.

"Hey, you," Quinn says, ignoring Jesse long enough to greet Rachel with a warm smile. Eventually, she looks at him. "St James," she greets flatly.

Jesse blinks. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn frowns. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I work here," he almost shrieks, looking indignant. "I teach here, and Rachel just took my job."

Quinn lets out a laugh. "I see you haven't changed, St James." She looks at Rachel. "Are you ready to go?" she asks. "Emma's soccer tryouts start in fifteen minutes."

Rachel nods. "Give me a minute to grab my things, and then we'll go."

Quinn just nods, watches as she disappears into her office, and then turns to Jesse again. "Oh, St James," she says. "What are we going to do about you, now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to be a problem?" she asks. "Because, you know, I like to think we're all adults now. If Rachel and I can get over our differences, then I think you should be man enough to be able to as well, correct?"

And, if Jesse picks up on the subtle challenge to his masculinity, he says nothing about it. Instead, he puffs out his chest almost without his consent, and says, "Of course we can."

Quinn smiles. "I suspected as much," she says. "It _has_ been years. Maybe, once everything's settled, we can all get some dinner. I'm interested to know what you've been up to all this time."

Jesse almost preens at the offer and attention.

God, she's a stunning woman.

"Ready," Rachel suddenly says, coming out of the office and locking the door. She has a few folders with her and a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Here, let me take those," Quinn says, taking the folders from her. "My stuff's already in my car."

Rachel just smiles again, and then looks at Jesse, only marginally surprised by the relaxed set of his shoulders and sudden softening of his features.

Well.

Quinn _is_ magic, sometimes.

"Let's go," Rachel says, and she smiles at Jesse. "See you tomorrow," she says, and then ushers Quinn out of the room, wondering just what kind of smug idiot she's going to be dealing with for the next few hours.

Quinn waits until they're outside in the parking lot to speak, walking Rachel right up to her car. "Is he going to be a problem?" she asks.

"No," Rachel immediately says, opening her trunk. "He'll get over it once the semester gets going. It's all hot air, anyway."

Quinn nods, setting the folders in the empty space. "Okay," she says; "but you'll tell me if he keeps bugging you about it, right?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I think I can handle myself, Doc," she says. "But, thank you nonetheless."

Quinn smiles. "I can't wait to hear about your first day."

"Later, I promise," she says. "Right now, there's a nine-year-old who might pout herself to death if she doesn't see you on the sidelines."

"That kid is spoiled," Quinn mutters, but her smile is still in place. "And, it's not me she wants to see."

"Lies."

Quinn grins at her, that little lopsided one that makes Rachel want to reach out and touch her.

She doesn't, of course, and she rather shoos the blonde away. "Get going."

"Race you," Quinn says with a wink.

"Don't you dare," Rachel says, sounding more serious than she intends. Quinn and cars have always been a bit of a sore spot for her, and Quinn knows that.

Quinn immediately sobers. "Of course not," she says. "I promise I'll drive at a normal, law-abiding speed."

Rachel blushes, embarrassed by her own reaction. "Okay."

"But, I'm still going to beat you."

Rachel almost sticks out her tongue at her, but stops herself. She's an adult. A teacher, standing in her school's parking lot. "Get going," she says again.

"Later, Berry," Quinn tosses over her shoulder as she almost trots towards her _Volvo XC90_ , Rachel watching after her as if she's about to disappear.

Rachel shakes her head of the thought, and then gets into her own car.

There's no way Quinn is getting there before her.

* * *

If there's one thing Beca Mitchell hates, it's people who are too... happy.

She's cynical enough to realise it might all be an act, which irritates her even more. Those kinds of people drive her up the wall, and she's adopted the use of her headphones to drown them out before she ends up saying things that'll probably get her punched.

Living with one is the absolute worst, though.

Her father is one thing - she's learned how to push his buttons enough to wipe the smile off his face - but her stepmother is on some other level of happiness. Beca has no idea how people like her even exist, and she's convinced she's actually some kind of cyborg.

Or, just on drugs.

Still, Sheila Mitchell is a rather typical housewife and soccer mom, her entire life revolving around her nine-year-old son that Beca tries not to hate for taking away her father.

She doesn't hate him.

She doesn't.

Even if he's stupidly cute and annoying and just so fucking happy.

He's just a boy, who happens to be the product of an adulterous affair that saw Beca's father leaving her with her mother and showing up sporadically.

Until now, apparently, when Beca's come to live with him - with _them_.

It just makes her hate the world that bit more.

And, really, Sheila is making it worse by forcing her to watch a bunch of preteens run around a field with a soccer ball at their feet.

It's as terrible as it sounds, and she retreats to the bleachers as soon as they arrive, ready with her headphones to drown out the sounds of children screaming and mothers chatting to one another about mundane, stupid things.

Well, it's what she's about to do, when she hears a voice say, "I will fight you on this, Berry. Harry was meant for Hermione, and you know it."

Beca's eyebrows shoot up, because that's the last thing she expects to hear on the sidelines of a soccer field. Her gaze follows the voice to see a blonde woman sitting with a brunette woman in the second row, the two of them occasionally waving at someone on the field.

"I'm not arguing this again, Quinn," the brunette - Berry, apparently - says. "While I might agree with you, I accept canon for what it is."

"Why do you do this to me?" the blonde - Quinn - dramatically says. "What are you going to teach your children?"

Berry chuckles softly. "That's why I have you," she says, and presses her forefinger to Quinn's nose. "And, anyway, only one of them is old enough to know anything about Harry Potter."

Quinn looks scandalised. "You are never young enough for HP."

Berry shakes her head. "Pay attention," she says. "Your kid is about to take a free-kick."

Beca looks up when Quinn does, and sees a blonde girl move into position to do just that. From Beca's seat, the two look remarkably similar, and she almost smiles at the way this Quinn woman gets to her feet before the girl has even moved.

Almost.

It's just that this Quinn and this Berry don't seem like typical soccer moms, and she's intrigued. They don't necessarily seem... happy - not that annoying brand, at least - and that resonates with Beca in a way it's never done with either of her parents or just anybody she knows.

Young or old.

It's weird.

Quinn suddenly throws her arms in the air and screams, "Go, Emma!"

Beca's heart jolts in surprise and she scowls, irritated with herself for getting so caught up in her own thoughts.

"Quinn," Berry says, tugging on Quinn's sweater. "You're going to embarrass her."

"I'm her mother," Quinn says as she retakes her seat. "It's basically in the job description."

Berry shakes her head again. "It's her first day," she says. "Don't make her more of a target."

Quinn's smile slips a little, and Beca feels like a creeper for the first time. She shouldn't be listening to them, but she can't seem to stop. She's curious, but she's trying not to be.

"Nothing's going to happen to her," Quinn says.

"How can you say that?"

Quinn clenches her jaw, because, really, how can she say that? From where Beca's sitting, she can see a myriad of emotions play across Quinn's face. "She's going to be fine," she eventually says, and it sounds heavy.

"Can you promise me that?"

"No," Quinn says, and Beca appreciates her honesty. "But, I can promise to do everything I possibly can to make sure she is."

Beca isn't an emotional person. Not even a little bit. She's straight-faced, quiet, and she avoids social situations as much as possible. This thing she's witnessed, though, makes her wish her father had made such a promise and actually kept it.

Beca shakes her head of the thought.

She's over it.

With a huff, she slips on her headphones and blasts her music. Several heads turn at the volume, but she doesn't care. Let them hear her teenage angst. Some shake their heads and others scowl, but Beca barely notices.

Except.

Quinn doesn't do either of those things. Instead, the woman kind of smiles. And Berry, well, her head starts to bop to the beat, and Beca wonders what kind of rainbow unicorns these women are.

Beca can't hear them anymore, and she tries not to watch when Quinn opens Berry's water bottle for her or when Berry pulls a packet of bacon bits out of her handbag for Quinn.

Beca _knows_ , but she also doesn't.

They're not as overt about it. They're rather discreet. She wonders why.

She wonders if she'll need to be, as well.

It's something her mother warned her about when it was decided she would be coming to live with her father and his new family. Beca's known her preference since she was twelve and got invited to her first and last ever sleepover. It was terrifying then, has been a few other times, and she's kind of hoping she's left that behind.

Apparently not.

She guesses Lima, Ohio isn't as progressive as Portland, Maine.

Beca knows her father knows - her mother told him - and she's wondered if he told his wife. It bothers her, slightly, that she cares either way. She's not ashamed, but she would hate if he told her without her permission; if he told her just to gauge whether she would still be comfortable having Beca in their home.

Which is why she tries not to think about it.

She tries not to think about anything at all, pumping up the volume on her music and revelling in the way it dulls her mind.

Before she knows it, the rascals on the field are heading back to the bleachers, and Sheila is looking at her expectantly. It's time to go, apparently.

Beca gets to her feet slowly, stretching her arms in the air and making a show of switching off her music, thoroughly enjoying the way Sheila's smile flickers. Hah.

Who's forever happy now?

Beca jumps down, almost tripping over her own feet and falling face first onto the grass. Someone reaches out to steady her, and Beca comes face-to-face with Quinn for the first time.

Of course.

"Sorry," is the first thing Beca says, which is just ridiculous.

Quinn blinks, and then smiles. "Are you apologising to yourself?"

Beca attempts to school her features, even though she can feel the heat in her cheeks. "No," she huffs.

Quinn's smile widens. "You should," she says, shrugging.

Beca stares at her, dumbfounded, for a moment, and then startles when Sheila calls her name. She looks away from the hazel eyes in front of her and frowns. "I'm coming," she shouts, and then sighs.

Quinn taps her shoulder, and Beca looks back at her, expecting some question about her mother or her attitude or something. But, of course, this woman is surprising. "Where'd you get those headphones?" she asks instead.

"Excuse me?"

Quinn points at the headphones around Beca's neck. "Your headphones," she says. "They look custom. I've been looking for a good place to get some, but that one over there refuses to let me get a pair myself." She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder to where Berry is interacting with the child Beca's identified as Quinn's daughter.

Beca blinks. Wait. What?

"Beca!" Sheila calls again, and Beca steps away from Quinn, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"I gotta go," Beca forces out, and then turns and rushes off, her heart beating a little too fast.

That was... weird.

It was really, really weird.

Beca doesn't dare look back as she heads towards where Sheila is waiting with Aaron, the little boy still vibrating with energy as he squeezes his juice box into his mouth.

"Bec, did you see me?" Aaron asks, almost bouncing in excitement.

Beca forces herself to calm. "I did, buddy," she says. "You're really good."

He pouts. "Not as good as Emma," he grumbles, and Beca smiles.

She surprises them all by touching his shoulder. "Well, then, you're just going to have to make sure you practice, so you can get better," she says.

Aaron nods determinedly. "I'm going to practice every day."

As long as he doesn't drag her out with him, she really doesn't care what he does.

Anyway.

Sheila gets them moving, and that's the moment Beca glances over her shoulder to where Quinn and Berry - and Emma - were last standing.

Only Berry is left there, seated once more, and Beca frowns slightly, flushing when Berry notices her looking and then points towards the field. Beca turns - she can't help it - and she sees Quinn with a ball at her feet, casually kicking it to Emma and getting it back immediately.

Oh.

They're the only two back on the field, Quinn pointing and shouting something to Emma. The girl sets off running, and Beca watches as Quinn sets herself and then kicks the ball through the air just perfectly enough for Emma to control and then shoot into the net.

"See," Aaron suddenly says, sounding petulant. "She's _so_ good already."

Sheila runs a hand through his hair as they walk. "You'll get there," she says. "Beca's right. You just need to practice."

"Maybe you can ask to train with her," Beca suggests, the words just leaving her mouth.

Aaron lights up, Sheila looks weirdly reluctant, and Beca wants to kick herself for ever opening her stupid mouth.

* * *

"Are they asleep?" Rachel asks over the soft music playing in their living room. "Please tell me they're asleep."

Quinn chuckles softly. "All your terrorists are out for the count," she reports, dropping her body onto the couch, her head landing in Rachel's lap.

Rachel immediately threads her fingers through soft blonde hair. "I love how they suddenly belong to me when they're being difficult."

Quinn smiles up at her, and then yawns, Rachel using her own hand to cover her mouth. "I missed you today," she says. "I'm so used to spending every day with you, and now I have to teach these crazy, hormonal teenagers."

Rachel puffs out a breath. "Someone hit on you, didn't they?"

Quinn hums, almost noncommittal. "I shut it down, though," she finally says.

"Are you sure?"

Quinn can hear the uncertainty there, even though Rachel tries to hide it. Quinn never wants to go through something like that ever again, and she's vowed to make sure it never happens again. "I'm sure," she says. "Though, I do seem to have garnered a bit of an admirer."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I don't think she quite knows it yet, though," Quinn says.

Rachel smiles softly. "I think I probably would have figured out just how not-straight I was much earlier if my teacher was as hot as you," she says. "You're practically everyone's sexual awakening, Quinn."

"Gross."

Rachel giggles, and then drops her head to press a soft kiss to Quinn's waiting lips. She lingers a moment, wanting to savour the feeling.

Quinn hums when Rachel pulls away. "I love you," she whispers.

Rachel kisses her again, and then says, "I love you, too."

They settle into silence for a while, the two of them merely existing in the quiet of their new home. It's a bit of a monstrosity, really, but Quinn's one demand when she agreed to move back to Lima was that their family would live comfortably. She was willing to fork out the cash to get just that.

Which is why the Berry-Fabray family reside in a gigantic six-bedroom mansion to rival the house Quinn grew up in. This one is large, but Rachel has managed to turn it into such a _home_ just in the few short weeks they've been living in it. It's everything Quinn wished for in this small town life she's allowed herself to want.

So far, it's working out well.

Now, though, they're actually working and school has started, and the great big world is going to learn of their family dynamic, which means they're going to have to deal with the aftermath.

Of course, Quinn and Rachel have tried to prepare their children. Emma, their oldest, only nine, seems to grasp that not everyone is accepting of families with two mothers, and Quinn hates that it's even a thing they have to worry about.

Their second born is just starting the first grade, and Quinn worries for her in all the worst ways. While Emma is tough, Amelia - Mia - is soft, and Quinn loses sleep over how gentle her gorgeous, precious daughter is. She just doesn't want the world to rob her of it.

And, then, there's Matthew - Matty - who is far too young to understand. Just shy of eighteen months, the most he worries about is Thomas the Train and if Mama is feeding him butternut again.

She is, usually, because Mommy is the one who likes to experiment in the kitchen.

Quinn thinks Rachel's just relieved to be done with breastfeeding. They tried to keep him on for as long as possible, but with work and the move, Baby had to graduate to the big stuff only.

He is a big boy, after all.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn says.

"Hmm?"

"How is Lee today?"

Rachel's breath hitches slightly. "Dad said he had a better day," she says. "Even had a few lucid hours."

Quinn smiles warmly, and then turns her head to nuzzle Rachel's stomach, enjoying her soft giggle at the action. "We'll visit on Wednesday," she says.

"Oh, I have show choir auditions in the afternoon," she says. "Can you imagine, they actually cut the all-female show choir when they didn't place at Nationals?"

"Those Sylvester clones," Quinn grouses, smiling at the incredulity in her wife's tone. "Why would Mr Schue even allow that?"

"I don't think he even knows," she says. "If he did, he didn't tell me. I had to find out from one of the students who used to be in the choir."

Quinn hums. "So, do you think the auditions will run long?" she asks. "We can still go afterwards. Maybe have dinner with them."

It's because of moments like these that Rachel has never been more sure of her choice in life partner. It's sometimes been difficult - they're Quinn and Rachel, after all - but she's been in love with this woman since before she even truly understood what romantic love was.

"I'd really like that," Rachel murmurs, bending to kiss Quinn's forehead. "Will you cook?"

Quinn nods. "Of course," she says. "Lee loves my lasagna."

"I think the world loves your lasagna, baby."

Quinn just grins at her. "You would marry my lasagna, wouldn't you?"

"Unfortunately, I'm already taken."

"What a lucky lady."

Rachel kisses her. "As long as she knows."

"She does," Quinn murmurs, deepening the kiss and feeling the warmth she associates with Rachel spread through her entire body. "She really, really does."

* * *

From what Rachel recalls of her own show choir auditions in high school, they were nothing like this. It surprises her, the actual turnout.

It's odd that they're just girls, but she's taking it in stride. She's determined to see this through, especially after Jesse's comments that she should just let sleeping dogs lie.

Apparently, the Barden Bellas are... atrocious.

Rachel, of course, did her research by watching videos of previous performances. They weren't necessarily atrocious. It's not the word she would use, no. They were just... ordinary.

Rachel Berry is definitely not ordinary. She married her high school tormentor, for goodness' sake.

The good thing, Rachel accepts, is that a lot of the previous original members have graduated, but the ones that remain seem eager. There's Chloe, of course, who Rachel has already mentally selected as the group's captain - gosh, she really hopes the girl can sing - and Aubrey, who's a bit of an enigma to Rachel. She'll figure her out eventually. She's nothing if not persistent.

Those two are the only seniors she has, with a handful of juniors: Ashley, Jessica and Denise, and one sophomore: Lilly. Rachel is having them all audition again, just to get a feel for their presences and ranges.

Her plan is to get the core group selected, and then possibly go out into the school to recruit other girls. Show choir isn't at the bottom these days, but it is... different.

There are even cheerleaders here, willingly and wholeheartedly, and Rachel loves it. She only knows that because of the uniforms she saw on their first day, but they're not being worn currently. It's Quinn's doing, she knows. She also knows her wife sometimes hated the divide the uniforms created, which is why this decision makes sense.

"Okay," she finally says, rising to her feet and standing in front of the gathered students. She's not going to climb onto the stage until she absolutely has to.

Memories.

Rachel doesn't have much planned to say, so she rushes through a quick introduction, and then invites the first girl to the stage. Chloe offered, of course, and Rachel is relieved from the moment she opens her mouth right until the moment she invites the girl to sit beside her as they watch the rest of the auditions.

If Rachel notices Aubrey eyeing them from time to time, she doesn't mention it.

Well, not immediately.

She waits until all the girls have auditioned - some more terrible than others - and asks Chloe to stay a while, so they can discuss a potential roster.

Chloe, of course, looks momentarily stumped by the request. "Me?" she asks uncertainly, nervously glancing over her shoulder to where Aubrey is obviously waiting for her.

Rachel nods. "Yes, Chloe," she says. "I'm talking to you." She pauses. "Unless you have somewhere else to be."

Chloe blinks, and then shakes her head. "No, no, I don't," she says. "I can stay." She winces. "Let me just..." she trails off, awkwardly gesturing to the space behind her. "I'll be right back."

Rachel just smiles, and then resumes her seat at the small desk situated among the seats in the auditorium, feeling powerful in a way she's never felt before. It's alluring. She likes it here.

She's vaguely aware of Chloe and Aubrey having a quick conversation in her periphery, and she can't help the sudden protectiveness she feels over the unassuming redhead when Aubrey mutters something rather harshly and then storms away.

Rachel waits patiently until Chloe returns, her smile a little dimmer and her shoulders slumped. It's a little heartbreaking, because girls like Chloe deserve to smile. For some reason, Chloe reminds her of Quinn, and she's unsure if it's a good thing. Her wife still struggles to this day.

Rachel doesn't draw attention to it, choosing rather to stick to the music. "Cynthia-Rose is definitely in," she says, catching Chloe's attention.

It takes a moment for Chloe to settle, but she eventually smiles, nodding her head. "She was amazing," she agrees. "I think Stacie was good, as well."

Rachel makes a note of it. "Amy was... interesting."

Chloe laughs softly, relaxing that bit more. "I think that's a bit of an understatement, Dr B," she comments. "She can sing, though. I think, if she takes it seriously, she could be an important voice."

"Dr B?"

Chloe blushes. "Is it okay if I call you that?"

"Sure." Rachel makes another note, and then very carefully says, "I'm... confused about Lilly."

At this, Chloe laughs, and her eyes shine a bright blue when she smiles. That's much better. "She has her moments," she says. "You should probably know she can also beatbox."

"That could prove useful," she comments, suddenly knowing she's made the right choice in Chloe. It's reiterated time and time again as they candidly discuss the new group of Bellas they're trying to put together.

"We'll need more, especially if we want to be able to compete substantially," Rachel says once they've finalised their list. "I think we should give it a week, see if any more show up."

"Do you think they will?"

"Maybe," Rachel allows. "But, once this list goes up, it should garner some interest. I'm sure the other members will talk about it. Who knows who we'll find in the next few days?"

Chloe nods. "I'll be on the lookout, then."

"That's the least I expect of my Captain," Rachel says, almost too easily, and Chloe freezes.

"Excuse me?"

Rachel smiles at her. "Captain of the Bellas," she says. "Are you interested in the job?"

Chloe stares at her for the longest time. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Don't you want someone like Aubrey? She was supposed to take over."

"I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't sure," Rachel says. "If you need to think about it, you can. I suspect you have a lot of responsibilities already."

Chloe starts to shake her head, and then quickly turns it into a nod. "I want it," she rushes to say. She winces, clearing her throat. "I mean, yes, I'd be honoured to be your Captain."

Rachel beams at her. "I'm glad, Chloe," she says. "You're very talented."

Chloe blushes at the compliment, and she ducks her head in an attempt to hide it. "Thank you, Dr B."

Rachel opens her mouth to reply, but the sound of her phone buzzing stops her. She glances at the screen to see Quinn's contact name accompanied with a picture of the blonde's hazel eyes, right up close.

"Sorry," she says to Chloe. "I should probably take this."

"Of course," Chloe says. "I need to get going, anyway."

Rachel gives her a pleasant smile. "Thank you for all your help today," she says. "See you tomorrow, Chloe." And then she turns away, her finger sliding across the screen.

* * *

Chloe's farewell gets stuck in her throat the moment Dr Berry says, "Hi, baby," into the phone, and she feels heat rise up her neck at being witness to it.

She quickly gets to her feet and moves to gather her things, only half listening as Dr Berry continues to say, "No, I've just finished. I have to stop by my office, and then I'll leave. I think so, but maybe we should get some anyway, to be safe. I'll fetch Em, and then we'll stop by the grocery store on the way. Mozzarella and cheddar, got it."

Chloe finds herself smiling, because it's always so fascinating when her teachers prove they're actually human beings. It's cute.

"Okay," Dr Berry goes on, and Chloe has just finished packing her bag. "Fresh salad sounds good. The Princess is going to fight you, though. Oh, no you don't. She's your daughter." She lets out this soft laugh, and Chloe wonders how she can sound so... happy.

Is she happy?

Chloe likes to think _she's_ happy, but she has moments when she's just not sure.

Like now, when she waves at Dr Berry, and then leaves the auditorium. Being made Captain of the Bellas is a huge deal. It's gigantic, and she should be happy, but the entire thing has made her feel anxious. And guilty.

She feels as if she's taken something from Aubrey, but she can't will herself to take the words back. She agreed when Dr Berry asked, and that should be the end of it.

It's not, she knows, when she sees a handful of texts from Aubrey waiting for her. She ignores them in favour of packing what she needs from her locker, and then heads to the library. The school isn't necessarily empty, but official extracurricular activities haven't yet commenced. So, students can go home early, or they're involved in tryouts. Who knows?

Chloe, though, just doesn't want to go home yet, and she finds comfort in the library when the Choir Room is occupied. She doesn't know if it is, given they were in the auditorium, but the library is calling to her now.

It's emptier than usual, given this is only the third day of school, and she claims a table all to herself near the back, settling into her seat and pulling out her notebook. It's not dedicated to any subject, and is rather filled with random song lyrics and absentminded doodles.

She thinks she needs to decompress before she replies to Aubrey's questions. It's not as if she thinks Aubrey won't be happy for her. It's just, well, Aubrey isn't one for not being in control, and Dr Berry seems to be taking the reins of this Bella ship far more tightly than their previous Director ever did.

Chloe likes it.

Perhaps they'll have an actual chance this year.

She takes out a pen and tries to clear her head. It works for only a moment, because she's thinking about a lot of things all at once. Show choir, cheerleading, Dr Berry, Aubrey, Dr Fabray, Math, the boy in her Stats class who keeps smiling at her, the fact she doesn't feel the need to smile back, Lady Gaga, pizza... just, everything.

Before Chloe knows it, her head is bopping to some beat, her pen tapping against the blank page. There's music, and she realises a little too late it's not actually in her head.

She stops.

Listens.

There _is_ music.

She's not going crazy.

It's muffled, though, which means it must be coming from headphones. She swivels around, trying to find the source, but she can't actually see anyone. It's a little disconcerting, but she's not going to complain. The beat is good, and she's just going to enjoy it.

Her head starts moving again, and she can't stop from mouthing the words to Carly Rae Jepson's _Call Me Maybe_. It mashes perfectly with another song she doesn't recognise, but it helps lift her mood, and her pen presses against the paper, ready to go.

Chloe doesn't know how long she spends there, drawing absently, listening to soft music and allowing her brain to switch off. But, eventually, the music stops, and Chloe is surprised by how disappointed she is. She hears some ruffling and shuffling, and then a girl is emerging from somewhere between the shelves, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder.

Chloe just watches in silence as the girl slinks across the library, head dipped and eyes cast downwards. She's dressed in dark, ripped jeans, a black tank top and an open red flannel. Her black boots are heavy on the carpet, brown hair hanging loose and pierced ears that draw Chloe's attention.

Her face is hidden, but Chloe is intrigued. She almost calls out, but manages to stop herself in time. She's in a library, for goodness' sake, and she's not ready to make a fool of herself so early in the semester.

Just, you know.

Who is that?

Surely, Chloe would remember someone like that. Whoever she is.

Chloe sighs. It doesn't matter anyway, does it?

Feeling a little unsettled, Chloe retrieves her phone from her bag and blanches at the increased number of texts from Aubrey. A lot of it is about what routine she's planning on auditioning with for the Cheerios the next day, but there are a few asking about what Dr Berry wanted with her.

Chloe decides to ignore those ones for now, choosing rather to talk about cheerleading. It's so much safer. Aubrey will always be _that_ Captain. Chloe will never say yes, if ever Dr Fabray is crazy enough to offer the position to her.

It's easier to avoid that topic over text, but she knows she's going to have to come up with a way to tell Aubrey about it by the morning. One thing about her best friend is she's persistent, and Aubrey won't let it rest.

It's the one thing Chloe both loves and hates about her.

* * *

Rachel makes it to her fathers' house before Quinn does. She almost rolls her eyes at how typical her wife is, even after almost two decades together.

Quinn still won't accept that her fathers adore her, so she avoids being alone with them as much as possible. Even their children don't serve enough of a buffer, apparently.

Especially now, with her Daddy, LeRoy, losing himself to Alzheimer's. They've had a rough time the past few months, with LeRoy bringing up many things of the past; things she and Quinn have worked tirelessly in therapy to get through.

It's been hard.

It's one of the reasons they decided to leave New York; to leave their successful careers and friends and happy lives, to return to this town where they met and suffered and eventually fled.

Rachel loves her wife for allowing her this opportunity to spend this time with her father, but she wishes Quinn wasn't so... awkward about it. She was like this in the beginning, when they first started to date. She wasn't sure she deserved Rachel, and Rachel has always got the feeling Quinn wanted her fathers to say the words out loud to her.

They didn't, obviously, and they've somehow managed to live somewhat harmoniously.

In separate states.

It's different now that they live ten minutes away. Things are so much better and worse at the same time. While Rachel is glad they're here, there's still a part of her that wishes she didn't have to witness her father deteriorate.

It hurts in ways that make her want to crawl into a little ball and cry until she can't anymore.

Still, she has her other father to think about. Hiram has been carrying the burden of the diagnosis for much longer than she has, forced to witness the love of his life slowly disappear.

"Mama, can we get out now?"

Rachel shakes her head to clear it, and then smiles at Emma through the rearview mirror. "Sure, Sweetheart," she says. "Mama was lost in dreamland."

"What's it like?"

Rachel audibly swallows. "Sad without you," she manages to say, and then she's getting out of the car.

Emma practically jumps out when Rachel opens the door, her school bag tumbling out behind her. She sets off for the house immediately, and Rachel has enough foresight to tell her not to make too much noise, in case Grandpa Lee is sleeping.

She sighs to herself when Emma doesn't acknowledge her, and she's still grumbling to herself about Quinn's daughter when Quinn pulls into the driveway beside her, and she's rewarded with the sight of her son already reaching out for her from his position in his car seat.

Rachel feels a smile spread across her face at the sight of him, suddenly feeling her mood lift. It's impossible not to look at that face and not feel some semblance of happiness. Because of it, Rachel abandons retrieving their few groceries and rather opens the back door to remove Matty from his prison.

He bounces in excitement, his mouth saying, "Mama Mama Mama," in that way that makes Rachel's heart sing. She clutches him to her chest, laughing at the way Quinn grumbles about favouritism.

Rachel looks past Matty's little head at Mia, who is curled up in the backseat with one of her reading books. She looks half-asleep, and Rachel's smile grows, if that's even possible.

"I exist too, you know," Quinn says, and Rachel loves her.

She loves her so much.

It's chaos once they make it inside, children running this way and that. Quinn very quickly and efficiently sequesters herself in the kitchen after quick greetings, and Rachel and Hiram share an affectionate eye-roll.

The visit, itself, goes well. LeRoy really is having a good day, but he grows tired rather quickly, and Hiram settles him in for a nap while Quinn and Rachel feed the children.

Then, the three adults sit at the kitchen table for their own meal, the sounds of the television and tiny laughter drifting through from the lounge from time to time.

Conversation is easy enough, and Rachel can tell her father appreciates just being able to talk to somebody who isn't some kind of medical professional or a patient.

"I still don't know why you bought a house with six bedrooms," Hiram says at some point, shaking his head. "Are you planning on giving us more grandchildren?"

Quinn laughs softly, absently sipping at her lemonade. "No, Sir," she says. "We've definitely closed up shop over there. We're too old."

"Ouch," Hiram says; "what does that make me?"

"Older," Quinn says, answering easily and smiling warmly.

Hiram returns her smile. "But, seriously, why?" he asks.

Quinn's smile slips from her face and she turns serious quite suddenly. "H," she murmurs. "Our sixth bedroom is its own mother-in-law suite," she says, and the depth of her words settles over them like a heavy fog. "I guess I just wanted you and Lee to have the option, if you wanted it."

Hiram blinks. "Oh."

Quinn nods once, and then eats another forkful of her dinner, as if she hasn't said something profound.

Rachel reaches for Quinn's hand resting on the table and brings it up to her lips, gently kissing the skin over her knuckles.

"What?" Quinn murmurs, looking a little stumped.

"I love you," she says, and she means it. She's always meant it.

Quinn smiles softly. "I love you, too," she whispers back, aware that Hiram is watching them.

The man clears his throat, sips at his wine and asks, "So, tell me, does this suite happen to have His and His sinks?"

Rachel laughs, and Quinn thinks that maybe everything is going to be just fine.

Just for a moment, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

Quinn might be a little drunk on power.

It's almost swimming through her veins as she stands in front of her potential cheerleading squad, fists on her hips and a calculating look in her eye.

It's one of her power-poses.

It's definitely working.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure what to expect, but this is quite the turnout. Most are already cheerleaders, which is quite the relief, because she doesn't want to introduce too many beginners to what she hopes will become a Nationals-winning squad.

From first look, they don't look like all that much, though.

Still, she introduces herself, explains the way the tryouts are going to work, and then sends them to the locker room, telling them they'll be called in one-by-one. There's a table set up on the far side of the gym, and she retreats to it with both Aubrey and Chloe. She had them showcase their skills earlier, blatantly ignoring the way they couldn't seem to look at each other.

Oh, boy.

Quinn settles between them, and then the tryouts begin. She's not going to be lenient. One misstep and the tryout is over. Quinn won't have anything but perfection.

She's made two girls cry by the time she takes a break forty-five minutes later, and Chloe keeps sneaking glances at her while Aubrey openly gapes at her. There's surprise, obviously, but also some admiration.

Quinn gets to her feet and walks around a bit, sending off a text to Rachel and getting a picture of Emma running on the soccer field as a reply. She smiles to herself, feels warmth spread through her body, and then returns to her seat.

"I thought they would be better than this," Quinn says to both teenagers, unsure what powers are in play at the moment. She doesn't direct the words at either one of them, choosing rather to speak to her clipboard.

"It's been a long summer," Chloe says.

"I thought you held a cheer camp," Quinn says, and then looks at Aubrey. "Were they this bad?"

Aubrey looks caught for a moment, and then nods. "We worked mainly on fitness," she confesses.

Quinn nods in thought, and then holds her hand at level in front of her face. "There are some that are... _just there_. They'll need a lot of work."

"We can do it," Aubrey says, sounding firm.

Maybe that's what decides it, so Quinn turns her body slightly towards Aubrey to discuss things further, and she can't mistake the relieved breath Chloe releases just to her left.

The choice is made, apparently, and Quinn suspects she's made the right one.

"We should get in the next one," Quinn eventually says, and she settles in to see out the rest of the afternoon, part of her mind wishing she was elsewhere.

* * *

Beca won't admit it to anyone - not even herself - but she's oddly disappointed when she and Sheila arrive at the soccer field on Thursday and she doesn't see either Quinn or Berry.

At first, at least.

Beca climbs up onto the bleachers, headphones already in place, as Sheila goes to meet and greet the other soccer moms. Beca looks out onto the field and easily spots Aaron, who's talking to Emma and another girl. She hates that there's a part of her that's proud of him for taking the initiative.

She's still watching them when she sees her. Berry. She's walking alone, phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. It's as if she stepped away for a moment and is just returning.

Beca is watching her, so she doesn't have time to look away when the woman suddenly lifts her head, as if she can tell eyes are on her.

Beca flushes, and then looks away immediately. Jesus. Creeper much. She fiddles with her phone to stave off her embarrassment. That's the second time she's been caught staring. The woman must think she's some kind of social pariah or something.

Which is why she's surprised when the woman climbs up and takes the seat right next to her.

Beca actually gawks at her, suddenly feeling so awkward in her skin. She drops her headphones, realising that the woman wants to say something to her.

"Sorry for invading your space," Berry says. "Just wanted to be able to hear the music better."

Beca blinks. "Oh?"

"This isn't really my favourite thing to do," she says, gesturing at the field. "All those moms are older and judgmental, and soccer doesn't interest me in the slightest, but I'm designated watcher on Thursdays, which really means I have to wave whenever Emma waves."

Beca isn't sure she's actually breathing, but she manages to nod. "Oh."

"Do you mind my asking what you're listening to?" she asks. "It sounds like a mix of some sort."

Beca takes a moment to compose herself. Gosh, and she thought Quinn was the overwhelming one. "It's, uh, just something I put together."

Berry's eyes light up. "That's amazing," she says, and her eyes are so earnest that Beca blushes and sputters. "I find mashing songs particularly difficult, myself. Quinn - remember the blonde woman with me the last time? - she's always been better at it. I'm too impatient."

"Yeah," Beca says, relaxing slightly. "It requires a lot of patience."

Berry tilts her head slightly. "I wouldn't imagine putting these two songs together," she says, suddenly thoughtful as she listens. "Oh. There. I can hear why you would."

Beca's never really talked to anyone about her music. Her father thinks it's some ridiculous hobby, and her mother -

Well, it doesn't matter anymore.

It's refreshing to be able to discuss music with someone who seems to get it, and this woman clearly does. She listens as Beca shuffles through her playlist, making comments here and there.

Always truthful, as well, which Beca learns when she winces and says, "This one is choppy. Definitely not your best work."

Beca laughs softly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Berry bumps her shoulder, and there's something so pure about the moment. Something easy. Something Beca hasn't experienced since she was five years old and climbing into her parents' bed on Christmas morning.

God.

What she would give to get that feeling back.

If Berry notices her sudden melancholy, she doesn't mention it. She rather falls silent herself and allows Beca her moment to compose herself. The emotion passes eventually, and she relaxes again.

"I think this is my favourite one so far," Berry says, her voice quiet as she waves at someone on the field. "Barbra Streisand is one of my ultimate favourites."

Beca smiles to herself, and then blanches when Quinn suddenly appears in front of them, her smile a mixture of knowing and hesitant.

"Hello, Stranger," Quinn says to Beca, and then drops onto the bench beside Berry. "Hey, you," she says to Berry.

Berry places a hand on Quinn's knee and squeezes gently. "Hi," she says.

"How's she doing?" Quinn asks, looking at the field.

Berry blushes. "Uh, fine...?"

Quinn laughs softly. "Let me guess, you've been too focused on your new friend to pay attention to the sport you hate?"

"I don't hate it," Berry immediately argues. "I mean, I didn't hate it when you played."

Quinn winks at her, and then looks past her at Beca. "Who is your new friend, anyway?"

Berry turns to Beca, opens her mouth and says... nothing.

Beca just watches them, wondering if she looks as starstruck as she feels.

"I don't even know your name," Berry says, looking distraught. "I didn't even introduce myself. My God, I'm Rachel, and this is Quinn, as you know."

"And, you're Beca," Quinn says, and Beca wonders how she's supposed to survive having them both looking at her with such kind eyes.

"Beca makes music," Rachel tells Quinn, and Quinn's facial expression shifts into something pleased and interested. "Mashups."

"Whoa," Quinn says. "Wicked."

"Gosh, you're so weird," Rachel says, and then looks at Beca. "She's weird."

Quinn ignores her. "Is that what you're listening to right now?" she asks.

Beca nods. "It's just some stuff I put together."

Quinn leans closer so she can hear the music playing from the headphones. "We had these annual mashup competitions when we were in high school," she says. "It was torture sometimes, trying to piece it all together."

"I have some pretty neat computer programs that I use," Beca explains.

Quinn's face splits into a smile, and Beca has to force herself not to look away, worried she's going to go blind. "We're just showing our age here, aren't we?"

Beca actually smiles, and she thinks she's caught some kind of bug. She feels... happy, but in that reserved way that might even linger. She didn't even realise how starved she was of attention.

This kind.

A positive kind.

The kind that doesn't demand something of her.

"Have you been doing it long?" Quinn asks, her own focus drifting between Beca and what's happening on the field.

"A few years," Beca says. "My mom kind of got me started on it." It's the first time she's even mentioned her mother since the move, and it catches her way off guard. Her face falls quite suddenly, and both Rachel and Quinn give her a worried look.

"Everything okay?" Rachel asks this time, her tone gentle.

Beca manages to nod. "Um, yeah," she says. "I'm fine."

Rachel eyes her for a moment more, but doesn't ask anything more about it. Instead, she asks, "Is this something you'd like to pursue as a career?"

Beca feels her heart stutter, because, yeah, it definitely is. "It is," she says, and it's such a relief to be able to say it out loud and actually have the adults in front of her take her seriously.

"Well, I think you have talent," Rachel says. "Might need some work, though. Practice. A little more theory and background." She sounds so serious, as if she's willing to help, somehow, and it takes Beca by surprise. "Are you taking Music at school? What year are you in?"

Beca suddenly feels overwhelmed, because these two essential strangers are actually listening to her and hearing her, and Beca wishes - _wishes_ \- she could hold onto this moment for forever.

She can't, though, and the conversation all comes to an abrupt halt when a whistle blows loudly, and practice comes to an end. Beca is suddenly being called by Sheila, and Emma is screaming, "Mommy, hurry up!"

Quinn smiles at Beca. "Duty calls," she says, almost shrugging. "See you next time?"

Beca finds herself nodding before she can stop herself, and then Quinn is up on her feet and rushing onto the field.

Rachel watches her go for a beat, and then looks at Beca. "I think your mom is waiting for you," she says, and Beca flinches.

"She's not my mother," she snaps back, sounding bitter.

Rachel retreats slightly, her facial expression shifting from surprise to understanding. "I'm sorry," she says, and it sounds so sincere that guilt crawls up Beca's neck at her outburst.

"Me too," Beca says, and she means it too. "She's just - she's not my mother."

"Okay," Rachel says. "But, she's still waiting for you."

Beca slowly gets to her feet. "I should probably go then," she says. "Thanks for, um - " she stops, gestures vaguely, and then blushes. "Just, thanks."

Rachel beams at her, her eyes full of something warm. "Of course, Beca," she says. "We'll see you next time."

Beca offers her one last, small smile, and then heads down the steps to where Sheila is waiting with Aaron. She looks impatient, while Aaron is looking at the field where Quinn and Emma are running drills together with a sense of longing.

"Why can't I practice now?" Aaron whines to his mother.

Sheila looks slightly uncomfortable, and Beca doesn't miss the way her eyes flick to the bleachers, back to the field and then to the bleachers again.

Oh.

Sheila puts an arm around Aaron's shoulder. "Not today, Sweetheart," she says, and starts leading them away.

Beca is suddenly certain Sheila has no idea about her preferences and, God, what's going to happen when she finds out?

* * *

 **Aubrey** : _Chlo, do you think you can pop in at Coach's class to find out if we have practice tomorrow? My father's already picked me up for the weekend, and I don't yet know her number? Just let the group know what she says. Thank you!_

Chloe reads the text twice before she groans out loud, drops her head against the cool metal of her locker and then takes a moment to gather the energy to move in the opposite direction to the one she initially intended.

Their first meeting for Glee has been over for about a half-hour, and Chloe finally managed to get herself up from the floor of the library with the intention of going home and catching a nap.

And, now, this.

She doesn't even know if Dr Fabray is still here.

Pulling herself together, she forces herself upright, and then makes her way to the Language Block, humming to herself as she walks, trying to keep herself awake.

This week has been long.

Beyond certain questions about herself, she's been passive-aggressively non-fighting with Aubrey, the boy in her Stats class actually said hello to her, she's now responsible for finding new members for the Bellas, and she's reclaimed the Vice Captaincy of the Cheerios.

She's exhausted.

She's also not sure she actually _wants_ to see Dr Fabray. The woman unsettles her somewhat, as if she's able to look at Chloe and just know all her secrets. Her hazel eyes are penetrating, seeing things Chloe doesn't need anyone to be seeing.

Still, she knocks once on the slightly ajar door and immediately pushes it open. She finds Dr Fabray sitting at her desk, sure, but there's a blonde child sitting on her lap, colouring into an A4 book.

Chloe freezes at the sight of them, wondering if she's interrupted something.

But, Dr Fabray just smiles at her, casually waving her further inside with the arm that isn't wrapped securely around the child's waist.

"Chloe, hi," Dr Fabray says. "What brings you by?"

Chloe takes another moment to compose herself. "Oh, um, I just had a question about tomorrow," she forces out. "Do - do we still have practice? I can't remember if you mentioned we did or not."

Dr Fabray hums in thought. "There's practice," she says. "At the field. It's not compulsory, but I'll be running some training workshops and fitness drills."

It's a test, Chloe knows, to see who's committed.

"From seven to ten," Dr Fabray adds.

Chloe blinks. "Seven?"

Dr Fabray shrugs. "Sue Sylvester had us working from seven until twelve," she says. "Be thankful my kid's soccer starts at ten-thirty, and I have to be there or it's the silent treatment."

"Her name's Emma," the child in Dr Fabray's lap says. "She's awesome."

Chloe feels a smile spreading across her face, because, God, that kid is stinking cute.

Dr Fabray presses a kiss to soft blonde hair and says, "Mia, that's Chloe. She's a cheerleader for Mommy." She lifts her gaze. "Chloe, this is my daughter, Amelia Lily, but we call her Mia. We're just finishing up with some homework and marking essays while we wait."

"We're going to the arcade," Mia says excitedly, almost slipping out of her comfortable seat.

"That sounds like it's going to be lots of fun," Chloe finds herself saying, though her voice sounds foreign to her ears.

There's... longing there.

Dr Fabray seems to notice, and she carefully sets Mia on the ground. "Sweets, don't you want to grab the dictionary for Mommy on that shelf over there, please?"

Mia looks up with wide eyes. "Really?"

Dr Fabray nods. "Be careful."

"So careful," Mia shouts, and then scampers across the room to the shelves in the furthest corner.

Dr Fabray keeps one eye on her as she gives Chloe her attention. "We have, maybe, fifteen minutes," she says. "She's a kid, but she'll figure out there's no dictionary there pretty soon."

Chloe smiles, genuine and a little sad.

"Is something bothering you, Chloe?" she asks, and Chloe is thrown by how sincere she sounds. "I realise talking to your teacher seems... odd, but I can be someone to talk to, if you need it."

"You won't just send me to the Green Room?" Chloe finds herself asking, unable to stop herself from bringing up the school's student wellness centre.

Dr Fabray frowns for a moment, and then clicks. "While I think everyone should really be in therapy, no, I don't think I would just send you there," she says. "For all I know, you just need a tampon."

Chloe is so caught off guard, she actually snorts. "We get those at the reception."

Dr Fabray looks a little surprised by that, but she smiles. "That's actually useful information to know. I'll remember that."

Chloe hums, and then sighs. "It's nothing... bad," she says. "I just - I guess I feel as if I don't really belong to the life I'm living." She frowns at herself, because that makes no sense. "Like, it's someone else's. Like, I'm watching it all play out in front of me."

Dr Fabray nods as if she gets it, which, well, she can't, right? "Are you feeling that way because you've tried so hard to be somebody else for so long, and you're just now realising how exhausting it is?"

Chloe just stares at her, because, whoa, that's exactly it.

Dr Fabray clears her throat. "Look, Chloe, I can only help as much as my own experiences allow, but I will tell you this: the exhaustion doesn't just go away. It lingers and festers, and that's not something I want for you."

Chloe swallows.

"Do you journal?" Dr Fabray suddenly asks.

"Sometimes."

"I want you to do me a favour," she says. "I want you to free write whatever you're feeling. It doesn't even have to be coherent or even make sense. Just write it down, get it all out. I find it helps when nothing else does."

"Even if it doesn't make sense?"

"Especially then. Foresight is a wonderful thing, Chloe," she says. "You'll be amazed what all falls into place when you're looking at a jumble."

Chloe nods. "You're not going to recommend some book for me to read?"

"I could, if I thought that would help," she says, her smile a little lopsided.

Chloe thinks she's the most charming like this, and she wonders when it was she started referring to her teacher as charming.

They fall into silence for a moment, and Chloe's surprised by the lack of awkwardness. Instead, they both kind of look at where Mia is still studiously searching all the books on the shelves.

"She's cute," Chloe finds herself saying.

"I like to think so," Dr Fabray says. "Thank you."

"So, you have two daughters?"

"And a son," Dr Fabray responds with a nod. "Nine, five and one and a half." She breathes out. "It's as much of a nightmare as it sounds. A stubborn preteen, a precocious kindergartener, and a babbling toddler. I'm exhausted just thinking about it."

"I'm an only child," Chloe says quietly, and then sucks in a sharp breath. "But, I wasn't always."

Dr Fabray looks thoughtful for a moment, and Chloe wonders what her response is going to be. It catches them both off guard when she says, "Me, too."

Chloe wonders if they're really referring to the same thing, but it's doubtful. Her older brother, Patrick, is dead. Just like that. One day he was here, and then he just wasn't.

Chloe wonders if she'll ever actually come to accept it.

Sometimes, she dreams of him just waltzing through the front door of their house, their parents laughing at their antics. She holds onto him as tightly as humanly possible in those dreams, but she never actually _feels_ him.

When she wakes, she's usually already crying, the loss hitting her almost every night. She wonders why it's all so overwhelming now. She has an idea, of course, but she's not going to mention anything to do with Patrick or her family to parents who seem to have died as well.

Chloe feels like a ghost in her own house. Her home. Her family. Her body. _Her_.

The words are out before she can stop them: "I feel like a ghost."

Dr Fabray regards her closely for a moment, and then gets to her feet. She walks around her desk slowly, coming to a stop in front of Chloe. After a beat, she lifts her hand and pokes Chloe's bicep.

Chloe blinks.

"You don't feel like a ghost to me," Dr Fabray says.

Chloe continues to stare, wondering about the significance of this moment. It feels both heavy and light, as if bursting into tears or starting to laugh uncontrollably are both acceptable responses.

"Mommy," Mia suddenly says, cutting into the silence, and Dr Fabray looks away. "I don't see it," Mia complains.

"Are you sure?" Dr Fabray asks, sounding only slightly amused. "It's dark blue."

Mia pouts adorably, and then resumes her search.

Dr Fabray is smiling when she looks back at Chloe, her eyes kind and understanding. "Chloe?"

"Coach?"

"Nobody has everything figured out at your age," she says. "I can't even explain to you how much of a colossal mess I was my senior year."

Chloe finds she's interested to know.

"Whatever's happening right now; whatever you're currently feeling... it's not everything. It's not the end of the world. Does that make sense?"

Chloe nods.

"You're going to figure it all out," Dr Fabray says. "There are a lot of people who are willing to help, whether you think you need it or not."

Chloe can't say she feels any better or worse when she finally leaves Dr Fabray's classroom, Mia's adorable farewell ringing in her ears. She does feel a bit more settled, as if everything really is going to be okay.

Somehow.

She's just rounding the corner when she almost bumps into Dr Berry, both of them just managing to avoid the other.

"Oh," Dr Berry sounds, smiling at her. "Chloe, hi."

"Dr B," she greets with a tired smile.

"Everything okay?"

"It's just been a long week," she lies. "Not used to these early morning wake-ups, is all."

Dr Berry nods, but Chloe can tell she doesn't necessarily believe her. "Well, you should get some rest this weekend," she says. "We have so much work to do."

This time, Chloe's smile is a little wider. "Definitely."

Dr Berry returns the smile. "Anyway, I should get going," she says. "Were you just coming from Quinn? Is she still in her classroom?"

Chloe's brow furrows. "Quinn?"

Dr Berry blushes slightly. "Oh, right, um, I mean Dr Fabray."

Chloe must imagine the woman rolls her eyes, because there's no way. "Um, yeah, she's still in there," she says.

"Thank you, Chloe," Dr Berry says. "Have a good weekend, all right."

"You too, Dr B."

When Dr Berry moves past her, Chloe spends a moment just standing there. Dr Fabray's name is Quinn.

Quinn Fabray.

Cool.

* * *

Beca loves her sleep.

When she's asleep, her world isn't as... heavy as she feels it actually is. Sometimes she dreams, and sometimes she doesn't. But, while she's sleeping, she doesn't have to deal with the reality of her life.

So, she loves her sleep. Which is why she's certain she's capable of murder when Aaron jumps onto her bed at eight o'clock on Saturday morning.

Like, what the hell? It's too early.

"You have to get ready," Aaron says, actually jumping on her bed. "Mom is making breakfast, and we have to eat and leave."

Beca buries her face in her pillow. "No," she groans.

"We can't be late," Aaron says, his cute voice just so stupidly annoying this early in the morning.

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"Soccer."

Beca immediately sits up, and Aaron almost goes tumbling off the bed. "Soccer? Again?"

Aaron nods. "Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays," he explains. "Saturday is supposed to be game day, but the league hasn't started yet, so we're just having practice."

Beca nods in understanding. Soccer practice means Quinn and Rachel, and she's far too sleepy to worry about being embarrassed by how exciting that all sounds to her. She barely even knows them.

"Are you coming?" Aaron asks.

Beca nods. "Sure, buddy," she says. "Just let me get ready, okay?"

He beams at her, almost blinding. "Okay," he practically shrieks, and then rushes out of her room.

Beca spends a few moments getting herself prepared to face the day, and then only does she get up. She showers, brushes her teeth, throws on whatever's in her closet, makes a mess of her makeup, and then heads downstairs.

It's Saturday.

Whatever.

She pauses just before she enters the kitchen, hearing voices. They're probably already seated at the kitchen table.

"I said no, Aaron," Sheila says, and Beca actually flinches at the tone of her voice. She didn't even think Sheila was capable of sounding that way.

"But why?" Aaron whines. "Steph is going to practice with Emma and her mom," he points out. "I want to get better, too, and Emma's mom is like a professional."

That's news to Beca.

"I said no," Sheila repeats. "The discussion is over."

Aaron, unperturbed, says, "Daddy?"

Beca almost smiles to herself, but it slips off when her father says, "Listen to your mother, Aaron." Typical.

Sheila clears her throat. "David, you should also have a talk with your daughter," she says.

"About what?"

"The people she talks to," Sheila says. "It's disgusting, really, the way they seem to prey on young, impressionable girls. Trying to turn them."

Beca's father says nothing, and Beca feels her stomach bottom out.

"Turn them into what?" Aaron asks, all innocence.

Beca chooses that moment to walk in, her facial expression carefully aloof as she says, "Vampires, Aaron. She's worried I'll turn into a vampire."

Aaron frowns at her, and Beca enjoys the adults' sudden discomfort far too much as she takes a seat and picks a few things to nibble on. She's definitely not hungry.

"But, aren't you already a vampire?" Aaron asks. "I mean, you're very pale."

Beca rolls her eyes, deciding he's her favourite part of this stupid town. "Sure, bud," she says. "I'm definitely a bloodsucker."

Sheila coughs suddenly, and Beca shakes her head.

She should have stayed in bed.

* * *

Quinn is already standing on the sidelines with Mia when she notices Beca arrive. She's with her mother - who Rachel says isn't _actually_ her mother - Aaron and a man who is probably her father. Quinn waits for Beca to look up to wave, and the girl gives her an awkward one back, before being steered towards the bleachers.

There's something off about the entire thing, but Quinn doesn't have time to dwell on it as Emma appears in front of her, already panting from her warmup. She has a ball at her feet, looking far too determined for a nine-year-old.

"Coach isn't even here yet," she complains. "Play with me."

Quinn arches an eyebrow.

"Please," Emma says, and Quinn thinks she would roll her eyes if she were older.

"Can I play too?" Mia asks, tugging on Quinn's shirt.

Quinn bites her bottom lip. "Maybe later," she says softly, knowing Mia won't be able to keep up, and it's just in everyone's best interest if she sat this one out. "Mommy just needs to help Emma with something. Do you think you can go sit with Mama for a little while?"

Mia nods, only a little pouty. "Later?"

Quinn nods. "I promise," she says, and then watches as Mia trots away, heading to where Rachel is sitting on the bottom bench of the bleachers with Matty in her lap and a small cooler at her feet.

Once she's sure Mia has made it safely, Quinn quickly steals the ball from Emma, and steers passed her before the girl even knows what's happening.

"Hey," Emma shouts, and then gives chase.

Quinn drives them away from the crowd, offering them a semblance of privacy as she coaches her own daughter through a few things she needs to work on. They're still trying to figure out which position suits Emma best. It's a tossup between the wing or even central midfield. Quinn thinks she could make a good striker if she grew a little and developed a bit more strength in her upper body.

It's a promising future, is all. Quinn is insanely proud.

While they work, Quinn is aware of eyes on them. More than just Rachel's, and she can only imagine what's being said. She's noticed the change in the atmosphere since some semblance of truth about their family has emerged. They're not open about it - they've never been - but they're also not hiding.

Quinn isn't ashamed, and she's proud of her family. She won't let her children feel as if there's anything they need to apologise for. It's just, well, it's disheartening to realise people are already judging them for whom they choose to love.

The world is supposed to have progressed.

"Mommy, can we practice overheads?" Emma asks.

Quinn runs up to her. "Show me your technique without the ball first," she says. The action, itself, is cool enough, but Quinn always worries about the landing. She had a teammate in college who once dislocated her elbow attempting an overhead kick.

Emma, though, has no such qualms, as she eagerly throws herself into the air and lands with a thud on the soft grass.

Well.

Quinn laughs to herself as she pulls Emma back to her feet. "That was terrible, kid," she says.

Emma groans. "I've been practicing."

"I know," Quinn says, passing her the ball. "But, you're not getting enough elevation to be in the air long enough to be able to time it perfectly."

Emma's shoulders slump.

Quinn gets down on one knee in front of her. "You just need more muscle in those scrawny legs of yours," she says, tickling her side. "You'll get there, I promise."

Emma nods. "Okay, Mommy," she says, and then moves backwards with the ball at her feet, dribbling easily.

Quinn marvels for a moment, and then goes chasing after her, her intention to make Emma work hard to keep that ball away from her.

The shriek of excitement her daughter releases makes the entire great big world fall away.

* * *

As cliché as it sounds, Rachel is sure she falls more and more in love whenever she watches Quinn interact with their children. There's just this look of wonder and pure adoration on Quinn's face that _gets_ to Rachel.

This is what she's given her.

This is what they've given each other.

A family.

Matty squirms in her lap, and she sets him on the grass, watching as he stumbles a bit. His legs are always a little shaky once he's just getting started, but then he ends up zooming about without a care in the world. Sometimes, Quinn says they have to instil some fear in him, before they find him walking right towards a rabid dog or something.

Still, here, at the soccer field, he pretty much walks in circles in front of her, his hands clapping in excitement at practically nothing. Mia giggles beside Rachel, watching her brother with wide eyes.

She's the one Quinn is most worried about, and Rachel can understand why. There's just something precious about her; something that makes Quinn call her 'Princess' with all the seriousness in the world. Something pure. Untainted. The world isn't kind enough to leave her that way.

Unbidden, Rachel wraps an arm around her, hugging her into her side. Mia lets her, her smile only growing, and Rachel is maybe able to ignore her worries for a little while longer.

What she's finding even harder to ignore is the people around her. It's as if they think she can't hear them when they make comments about Quinn. All the woman is doing is teaching her own kid some tricks. How that makes them think Quinn thinks she's better than them, Rachel will never know.

Gosh, people can be petty.

"Mama, can I please have some juice?" Mia asks, bouncing slightly.

"Of course," Rachel says, digging in their cooler for a bottle. She and Quinn use bottles, rather than boxes, because then they're able to dilute the juice with water.

Her wife is a bit of a health nut.

Mia mumbles a _thank you_ when Rachel hands it over, and Rachel drops a kiss to the top of her blonde head. Her hair is a little darker than she thought it would end up being. Darker than Emma's, and much darker than Quinn's. Rachel feels a little conflicted about it, if she's being honest, because she doesn't want to be relieved that at least one of the children that came from Quinn's body actually looks as if she could belong to her.

Matty is definitely hers, though. It's unmistakable.

The relief is in the fact his eyes are a warm hazel, undoubtedly making him Quinn's as well. She also thinks he's going to grow to be incredibly independent, that trait already showing itself so early.

Definitely Quinn's son.

Rachel glances over her shoulder to where she knows Beca is sitting with a man who must be her father. Or, a father figure, at least. The woman, who isn't Beca's mother, is floating about, greeting all the other parents, and Rachel can't help wondering about those family dynamics.

Beca looks miserable sitting there, her headphones hanging uselessly around her neck, as if she's been forbidden to play her music. Beca must feel her gaze, because her head turns, and Rachel offers her a warm smile that the teenager just about manages to return before the man steals her attention again.

Rachel looks away when she hears an excited shriek that's all too familiar, and her mouth spreads into a bigger smile as Quinn runs after Emma, the two of them eventually ending up in a tangled heap on the grass.

" _I don't know what she's trying to prove."_

_"Why did they have to join our league?"_

_"There are families with children around, and they don't need to see this._ "

Rachel closes her eyes to block out the voices. She told herself she would be able to handle it, back when she and Quinn were still discussing the move back, but it's harder than she imagined it would be. Is this what her fathers went through? Do they still go through this?

Rachel knows they're not the only same-sex couple in Lima, but it suddenly feels as if they are. When she opens her eyes, the sounds have drowned out, and Matty is stumbling towards her, arms outstretched to catch himself against her legs.

Why should she be worried, anyway? She has the best family in the world.

It's a truth that gets compounded when the coach arrives and Quinn returns to her side, a bit of grass in her hair and an easy smile on her face. She looks so beautiful like this, and Rachel finds herself falling even deeper.

It's an infinite hole, apparently.

* * *

Beca has experienced discomfort before, but sitting beside her father and listening to him prattle on about staying away from certain people eats away at her.

It's like he's forgotten.

She's one of them.

She'd also really like to be _happy_ like them.

Throughout the practice, Beca splits her attention between ignoring her father and watching as Quinn and Rachel exist in their little family bubble. Until today, she knew only of Emma, but there are more children, apparently, and Beca is fascinated.

Somehow, Quinn manages to talk quietly to the little girl at her side and scream positivities at Emma on the field, all while a little boy climbs all over her. Rachel is more reserved, not particularly vocal, given that she knows nothing about soccer.

It makes Beca smile, and her fascination grows. If they can do it, surely she'll be able to. One day. In the future. It's what she wants, she thinks, though she'll never admit it. She wants a family of her own; to do it better than her current one.

She wants to be better, and she just can't figure out why it even matters who's going to be asleep beside her. But, it obviously does, if her father's comments are to be believed.

Beca doesn't, of course, but it hurts in ways she can't explain when he constantly remarks that there's no place for _that_ at children's soccer. They aren't even doing anything.

It sounds like Sheila speaking through him, so she wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there's only so much she can take and she reaches her threshold far too soon.

"Does that mean I shouldn't be here either?" she suddenly snaps, and his eyes go comically wide. "If you want them to leave for their preferences, surely I should, too, right?"

He sputters.

"Come on, David," she says. "I'm waiting."

"Beca," he says. "That's not - you're not - "

"I am," she insists. "And, you already know, because I _know_ Mom told you, so I don't know why you keep going on about it as if I'm not sitting right here."

"Beca," he says again. "You're not... that. It's just a - "

"I swear, I will scream bloody murder if you call it a phase," she says through gritted teeth. "It's not. It's never been. It's who I am, and I would really appreciate it if you would stop making me feel as if I'm some kind of unnatural mistake." She huffs out a breath. "You already do that without my sexuality even making an appearance."

All of a sudden, she can't stand to look at him, and she gets to her feet before storming away, ignoring the way he calls out her name.

Beca just continues walking, unsure where she's even going. She just knows she needs to get away, and her feet are just carrying her.

When she hears footsteps following after her, she whips around, ready with another rebuke, but her voice gets stuck in her throat when she sees Rachel there instead of her father.

Rachel has a bottle of water in her hand and a pensive look on her face.

For a moment, neither of them says anything, and then Rachel is handing over the bottle, silently offering Beca the opportunity not to talk about it.

Beca actually thinks she might cry.

She doesn't, of course, but her eyes do prick with unshed tears. She wants to talk - she really, really wants to - but she's not ready. Not yet.

Rachel seems to understand that, because she smiles in understanding, nods her head once, and then softly shoos her away. "Quinn and I like to take a drive when the world gets too much," she says.

"I'm not old enough," Beca says. "And, I don't have a car."

Rachel shrugs. "Well, then, I suppose a walk will have to do."

* * *

Chloe's grimace is almost a permanent feature as she, Aubrey, Lori and Isabella move through the Lima Bean towards the front counter after cheerleading practice. Her body aches in places she didn't even know existed, and she just knows it's going to get worse.

Dr Fabray was ruthless. Brutal, really, and she seemed to enjoy every second of it. What's worse, Chloe thinks, is that the woman did the workout _with_ them. It's embarrassing and demoralising that a mother of three is fitter than she is.

Even Aubrey looks annoyed about it, but that's really been her usual expression the last few days. They haven't actually talked about Chloe's appointment as Captain of the Bellas, but Chloe thinks it'll blow over eventually.

They get over things. It's just what they do.

"I feel as if I need to replace all the calories I just burnt," Lori says, looking at the menu. "Is it going to be like that at every practice? _God_. I don't think I could survive that."

"I barely survived this one," Isabella complains. "I can't even feel my toes. Are they still there? Who knows?"

Chloe smiles at her, and then sighs. "I think I'm going to get a caramel macchiato," she says. "Today is a day of indulgence." What she doesn't say is that she's in desperate need of some kind of pick-me-up. While her talk with Dr Fabray the previous day made her accept it's okay to feel whatever she's feeling, she still doesn't fully understand just _what_ she's feeling.

It's something she knows she'll have to take the time to unpack, but she's just going to enjoy spending time with her friends for now. This part is easy, she thinks. She can wax poetic about celebrity gossip, school gossip, the best places to eat in Lima and Isabella's boyfriend, who's probably, definitely, cheating on her.

Just, you know, as long as she doesn't have to talk about herself.

Lori leaves first, telling them she has a shopping date with her mother. Isabella goes off to meet her cheating boyfriend next, leaving her and Aubrey in silence.

"How exhausted are you?" Aubrey asks, and Chloe almost bursts out laughing. Or crying.

"Very," she says. "She was a dictator."

Aubrey smiles. "It's my understanding you once called me that, as well."

"I always call you that, Bree," she says, laughing softly.

"Well, I am my father's daughter," she says, and her smile immediately slips off her face. "I'm having dinner with him again tonight," she says. "He wants to introduce me to some people."

Chloe nods, already knowing what that all means. "How are you feeling?"

Aubrey shrugs. "It is what it is," she answers diplomatically. "What are your plans?"

"Sleep, mainly," she says. "Maybe I'll even consider having an ice bath."

Aubrey winces. "That bad, huh?"

"I feel as if I'm dying."

"Drink your coffee," Aubrey says. "It might bring you back to life."

It doesn't, obviously, because she's not actually dead, and she remains in her seat when Aubrey says she has to get going. "Text me later," she says, and then leaves Chloe to slip even further down in her seat.

While the coffee doesn't jolt her into wakefulness, a certain arrival does. Chloe immediately sits up straight when the girl from the library walks in, the slump in her shoulders unmistakable.

Chloe sees her face for the first time when she steps up to the counter, and, okay, whoa. Chloe shifts in her seat, the sudden flutter in her stomach something foreign. The girl is, well, she's pretty. But, in that unassuming way. As if she has no idea, and she wouldn't even care if she did know.

A girl very unlike Chloe.

Chloe watches as the girl places her order and waits, and Chloe wishes she were closer to hear her name.

There's just... something about her.

Chloe tells herself she should probably ignore it, but this feeling is much more pleasant than whatever was going on inside of her ten minutes ago.

Once the girl has her drink, she moves to a table a few over from Chloe's, settles into a seat, slips on her headphones and blasts her music. Still, Chloe watches, unable to stop herself. The girl continues to fiddle with her phone while she sips at her drink, and Chloe is intrigued.

She's _caught_ , and she doesn't even think the girl is fishing.

Well.

Chloe downs her drink and gets to her feet, just able to ignore her aching limbs. In the time it takes her to cross to the girl's table, she's managed to turn on the 'Chloe Beale' that graces the corridors of McKinley.

Her arrival, of course, startles the girl, and Chloe has a moment to feel guilty for that, before she sticks out her hand and says, "Hi, I'm Chloe."

The girl eyes her sceptically for a moment, and then slowly shakes her hand. "Beca."

Beca. Chloe repeats the name in her head, her smile widening. _Beca_.

"Uh, can I help you?" Beca asks, looking at her as if she's a crazy person.

She might be, which is why she takes the seat opposite Beca and leans forward. "I love your music," she says unexpectedly.

Beca blinks.

"You go to William McKinley, right? I was in the library the other day and I heard about an hour of your stuff. It was really good, had me threatening to break out into song right then and there. Where do you get it? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

And, yeah, Beca looks overwhelmed.

Chloe considers toning down her megawatt smile, but, now that she's actually talking about music, she can't. It's probably her favourite topic of conversation.

"Oh, um," Beca sounds. "Just around. The internet. Wherever."

Chloe nods. "I'm asking because I'm part of the Bellas at school, and - "

"Bellas, what?"

Chloe nods, her excitement building. "We're an all-female show choir," she explains. "Newly reinstated, I suppose. Maybe that's why you've never heard of us. Are you new? I haven't seen you before this week."

Beca shifts slightly. "I'm new, yes."

"Junior?"

"Sophomore."

Chloe stops herself from squealing at how cute that is. "Welcome to Lima," she says.

Beca winces.

Chloe laughs properly, relaxing slightly. "It's pretty horrible, isn't it?"

"I'm from Maine, so, yeah," Beca says. "What do people even do here?"

Chloe tilts her head to the side. "Probably go to Toledo," she says with a cheeky little smile, and she's definitely not imagining it when Beca's eyes widen slightly. "I don't know, really. There are movies, an arcade. Kids like bowling. There's a skate park. We usually just hang out at each other's houses and get drunk."

Beca nods.

They've gone wildly off topic, so Chloe steers them back. "Why I bring up the Bellas is that we're probably going to need music to perform, and I especially liked that one with Bruno and Nelly, and - " she stops when Beca's mouth suddenly spreads into a smirk.

It's dangerous.

So, so dangerous.

"What?" Chloe asks, blinking slowly.

"Nothing," Beca says. "Sorry, it's just you don't strike me as the type to know Nelly."

"Judgmental much," Chloe quips, but she's smiling. "I know music," she says. "I like it. It's the best part of my day."

Beca seems to understand that, because her smirk softens into a small smile, and Chloe thinks she's beautiful like this.

Wow.

Okay.

Chloe clears her throat. "So, I mean, is there a place where I can get the music?"

Beca looks away for a moment. "Not exactly," she says. "It's not really available for download to the public, but I'm sure I could get it for you."

Chloe sits straighter. "Really?"

Beca nods. "Are you interested in any others?"

"Definitely," she says. "I heard _My Favourite Things_ mixed with something else, and I'm sure I fell in love."

Beca's cheeks go a little pink, and Chloe is left to wonder why. "I can put a playlist together for you," she offers, and then immediately wonders where those words even come from. "Of what I think are the best ones, and you can listen and pick."

Chloe nods eagerly. "That would be amazing. I think our Director is really going to love them. She's been wanting to try something different, and this is exactly that."

"I'll burn a disc for you, and get it to you at school," Beca says.

"Here," Chloe says. "Let me give you my number."

Beca starts to look a little pink again, and Chloe files that bit of information away as Beca hands over her phone. She inputs her contact, and then quickly dials her own number, so she has Beca's number as well.

"Don't spam me," Beca says when Chloe hands back the phone.

Chloe smiles innocently. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Beca shakes her head, looking amused even though she's trying to hide it. She takes a sip of her drink, and Chloe suddenly has a thought.

"You should join the Bellas," she says, and Beca's eyes widen in surprise. The negative response is already on the tip of her tongue when Chloe continues. "No, seriously, it would just be cutting out the middleman. It's all about the music. You're new, which means you'll make some new friends, and it'll be fun."

Beca blinks. "Dude."

Chloe beams at her.

"I don't even sing."

"Don't, or can't?"

"Does it matter?"

Chloe nods. "We can fix only one of those things," she says. "Will you at least think about it? We meet on Wednesdays and Fridays in the Choir Room straight after school. You can just come in, meet our Director, audition, and totally blow us away with your amazing talent."

"I don't sing, Chloe," she says, and Chloe feels all the air in her lungs freeze. The sound of her name from Beca's mouth just... does something to her.

Oh.

"Promise you'll think about it," Chloe eventually says, barely recovering.

Beca looks stubborn for a moment, but she eventually relents with a nod, and Chloe counts it as a victory. She has to stop herself from whooping out loud.

They both look down when Beca's phone starts to vibrate from an incoming call. Beca groans, but does eventually answer after a soft apology, and Chloe looks away to give her the illusion of privacy.

"David." Beca's voice is terse. "I'm at the Lima Bean. No, you don't have to come fetch me. I'll walk. I don't care how far it is. As far as I know, you don't want me around to corrupt your precious son, right? Whatever. Just leave me alone. It's what you're good at, after all."

Chloe flinches when Beca hangs up and throws her phone onto the table.

"Sorry," Beca murmurs, failing at hiding her irritation.

"It's okay," Chloe says. "I wouldn't want some surly emo goth teen around my kid, either."

Beca stares at her for a moment, unsure if she's serious or not because Chloe keeps her face carefully blank, but then she smiles. And then laughs.

Eventually, they're both laughing, somewhat hysterically, because what the actual hell?

When the laughter tapers off, Beca looks at Chloe with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Chloe tries not to show her discomfort under the scrutiny.

"Chloe," Beca says, and her name has never sounded more important to her own ears. "I think you're turning into my third favourite part of Lima."

Chloe pouts. "Only third?"

Beca nods, her upper lip quirking. "Third, yeah."

"Is there a chance I can move up a spot?" she asks, and, _oh my god, is she flirting_? Is this flirting? She doesn't even know. Does she want to be flirting? Should she even be considering such a thing?

Beca eyes her carefully, but she doesn't get a chance to reply because there's suddenly a man standing over them, looking livid in a way he's desperately trying not to show.

Beca's eyes instantly harden, and Chloe suddenly doesn't even recognise her.

"Let's go," the man says, and then he's reaching for Beca's shoulder and dragging her to her feet.

Beca goes somewhat willingly, but she does make sure to send Chloe an apologetic look. Then, she says, "Yes."

Chloe frowns, not understanding. "What?"

"Yes," Beca repeats, and then she turns away, disappearing from sight.

It takes a moment for Chloe to click, and a smile automatically spreads across her face.

Oh.

There _is_ a chance.

* * *

Rachel discovers early on that LeRoy has good days and bad ones. Good moments and bad ones.

Part of their family's routine now involves Quinn going to church on Sunday morning, sometimes taking the girls with her, while Rachel goes to visit her fathers with Matty. Quinn joins them later, and they have brunch all together.

It's usually a good day.

Sometimes, it's not, and Rachel wishes she had the forethought to text Quinn to stay away with the girls before LeRoy escalated to a point where he was saying things Rachel wishes she didn't know he even thought about her marriage. To a woman. Who once used to bully her to tears.

Quinn endures twenty long minutes of it while Hiram takes the children into the den. There are just things children shouldn't hear.

Rachel ends up in tears, and Quinn grows quiet in that way that lets Rachel know she's doubting everything. Their lives, their relationship, their love.

And LeRoy.

Rachel has heard of internalised homophobia. Quinn went through years of it before she accepted herself, but LeRoy seems to have an abundance of it, and Rachel and Quinn aren't even the ones suffering the most.

Rachel doesn't know what she would do if her wife ever told her it's her fault her life has been as difficult as it's been. That she blames her for the hardships. That, if she never married her, she would be more successful, more happy. Just, _more_.

Which is why, when they're leaving, she gives Hiram the hardest hug imaginable and whispers, "He didn't mean it," into his ear. She can't be sure he believes her, but there's nothing more she can say or do.

He has his husband to take care of, and she has her wife.

It's quiet on their way home, and Rachel suspects the children must be hungry, even though none of them will say anything. They must sense something is wrong, and the thing to do is keep silent.

When they get home, Quinn makes them all pancakes while Rachel gets the children changed into more comfortable clothing. She changes Matty's diaper with Mia sticking close to her side, as if the little girl knows her Mama is losing the grip on her emotions.

The only one who really talks while they eat is Matty, happily babbling away at nothing in particular. Quinn helps Mia cut up her pancakes, pours an extra bit of maple syrup, and then eats in silence.

Emma watches them carefully, trying to figure out just what's wrong. Rachel tries to smile at her, but it must fall flat because Emma's eyes narrow. Rachel knows they're going to have a lot of trouble with that one when she gets older.

Well, even now.

"Can I watch TV?" Emma asks once she's finished eating.

Quinn nods. "Take Mia with you," she says.

Emma just nods, and then the two girls disappear. Quinn abandons her own food immediately and gets to her feet. She starts to clear the table while Rachel sits perfectly still, watching her.

"Matty, my sweet boy, are you finished there?" Quinn asks, and then swoops in to clear his mess. She wipes his hands and face, carefully removing his bib, and then lifts him out of his chair to put him on the floor. She rubs his back for a moment, until he burps, surprising his little body with the force of it.

Both Quinn and Rachel chuckles softly.

Matty takes off immediately after, and Quinn shouts out to Emma to keep an eye on her brother.

When it's just the two of them left in the kitchen area, Rachel gets to her feet and moves into Quinn's personal space, crowding her until Quinn has no choice but to look at her.

Quinn's jaw tenses.

"I love you," Rachel says, vaguely aware their children are just metres away, completely visible in the open plan design of the house. "I love you so much."

Quinn blinks back tears.

"I told you yes," Rachel whispers. "When you asked me to date you, to love you, marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. I told you yes. I will keep telling you yes, because I'm not an idiot, Quinn. I'm not stupid for choosing you and your love. Do you think I would ever spend my life with someone who wasn't worth it? That I would raise children with someone I thought was unworthy?"

It takes another minute, but Quinn eventually gives in, practically collapsing against her. The hug that follows speaks volumes of how far they've come and how much further they still have to go.

Quinn squeezes her so tightly, and Rachel welcomes it. She wants to feel this; needs to feel the pain of it.

"I love you. I love you."

Good days and bad days.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

It takes everything Beca has not to laugh in her father's face when he reminds her she's grounded on Monday morning.

Seriously.

As if she even does anything.

She doesn't even know why she's grounded, just that she is. Apparently, you're not supposed to take off from your half-brother's soccer practice after your father basically says he wishes you didn't exist.

She didn't get the memo.

Part of the grounding, though, includes the confiscation of her phone, which means she doesn't even know if Chloe called or texted. Which, okay, she probably shouldn't care all that much about, but there's a part of her that does.

Chloe is... refreshing.

She seemed happy, to an onlooker, but Beca saw something else, too. Something in those blue, blue eyes that made her stop herself from hating the happiness on sight. Chloe tried to hide behind it, but there's a certain sincerity that managed to creep in.

She was genuinely happy about _something_.

Just, maybe, not _happy_.

It was intriguing. It still is, and Beca almost wonders if she's willing to seek out the redhead, the disc she made for her burning a hole in her backpack. She doesn't think she's ever actually seen Chloe at school before, so she wouldn't know where to start looking. She doesn't even know what year she's in, but she suspects Chloe must be older. Maybe even a senior, or she wouldn't have asked if Beca was a junior.

It makes sense why Beca wouldn't have seen her then. The upper and underclassmen are rather separated at William McKinley, which has both its advantages and disadvantages.

The disadvantage being that the underclassmen have lunch before the upperclassmen, and Beca sees out the entire day without catching sight of Chloe's red hair. She's disappointed, sure, but the thought of seeing Rachel and Quinn gets her through Sheila droning on about God-knows-what as she drives them to the soccer fields.

Without her phone, Beca had to fish out her old _iPod_ , which she hasn't really touched in a few years. It still works, yay, so her father can suck it. So can Sheila, when the woman says, "Stay where I can see you."

Beca blatantly ignores her and goes to sit right next to Rachel, almost daring Sheila to say something about it in public.

Predictably, the woman says nothing. Just shakes her head and then turns to make the rounds, probably going to have to explain that the surly teenager isn't actually _her_ daughter.

Good.

Beca tells herself it's good, even though it's not.

"Hey," Rachel says quietly, looking thoughtful.

"Hi," Beca says, relaxing slightly. She finds an odd sense of comfort in this woman who is essentially a stranger.

"Rough day?"

"Something like that," Beca says. "What about you?"

"Oh, definitely," she says with a slight roll of her eyes. " _Life_ is rough."

"Tell me about it."

Rachel smiles warmly. "So, did you manage to make any new mixes this weekend?" she asks. "I didn't get a chance to ask on Saturday."

Beca blinks, and then winces. "Oh, yeah, sorry, my dad is..." she trails off. "He doesn't really know me."

"Please don't apologise for him," Rachel says, and there's a certain edge to her voice. "That's not on you, okay?"

Beca just nods, watching as Rachel looks towards the field. It's the first time Beca notices Quinn standing on the sidelines, sunglasses on her face and a bouncing Emma in front of her.

Something seems... off.

"Is everything okay?" Beca finds herself asking.

Rachel sighs. "We're having a..." she trails off, as if she can't find the correct word. "I'm not sure how to explain it. Something like a miscommunication. Quinn thinks one thing, I repeatedly tell her something else, and just hope she believes me."

Beca nods as if she understands. "I'm sure it'll work itself out," she says.

Rachel bumps her with her shoulder. "Optimism doesn't suit you, Beca."

"Maybe I have something to be optimistic about," she finds herself saying, and then catches herself. What did she just say?

"Oh?"

Beca clears her throat. "I think I made a friend," she quietly confesses. "It's not something I'm generally good at."

"I think you do just fine," Rachel comments lightly, and Beca blushes.

"I'm not really one to approach people," Beca says. "I don't generally _like_ people."

Rachel chuckles softly. "They can be awful, yeah."

"She was... nice," Beca says, her blush intensifying.

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Nice, huh?"

Beca ducks her head. "She kind of just approached me and started talking about my music."

Rachel winks at her. "Seems to me you have a friend type there, Bec."

Beca feels warm, because this is something she's never really been able to talk to anyone about this. About girls. About a potential crush.

She feels a little more anxious but less burdened at the same time. While she hasn't explicitly said anything, it's obvious Rachel knows.

"I kind of offered to make her a playlist," Beca practically blurts out.

"Oh my," Rachel says. "I didn't do that for Quinn until at least two years of marriage."

Beca lets out a laugh that sounds strangely foreign to her own years. She hasn't heard it in so long. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," she says. "I barely know her."

"Well, still, I'm glad you're making friends," she says. "I didn't really have them until sophomore year and, even then, it was... a struggle. I've mellowed with age but, if you ask Quinn, she'll happily tell you how much of a nightmare I could be."

Beca's eyes widen slightly. "You've known each other that long?"

Rachel nods. "We went to high school together, yes," she says. "We have a complicated, colourful history, I'll tell you that, but I've loved her in some way since I was a clueless teenager."

"I still feel clueless," Beca admits.

"It's not a feeling that'll go away any time soon," Rachel tells her helpfully. "Youth and high school aren't easy for anyone. Especially not if you..." she trails off. "It's just not easy."

"Can I ask you a question?" Beca asks, her voice suddenly timid.

"Of course."

"It's kind of personal."

"You can ask, Beca," she says; "I reserve the right to answer."

She smiles in appreciation. "Are your parents - do they - I mean, are they supportive?"

Rachel flinches, and Beca immediately wants to take it back. But, then, she's answering. "Yes, and no," she says. "They're actually gay themselves, so they know what it's like, living in this world and raising children around people who refuse to understand, so it's not necessarily something they ever wanted for me."

Beca feels her skin prickle when Rachel actually says the g-word, and it feels as if everyone is suddenly looking at them.

Rachel doesn't look at all worried, and Beca envies her. "But, yes, I suppose they're supportive," she says. "They love me, and Quinn, and our children, and that's really all I can ask for."

Beca hums, wondering if her father's apparent love for her would be enough.

"Maybe you should ask this question of Quinn," Rachel says. "Her experience is very different to mine."

"How so?"

Rachel's eyes find Quinn's form on the grass in front of them. "Me and the kids," she says; "we're the only family she has."

* * *

Quinn has her phone out filming Emma's technique when she feels a hand on her elbow, familiar fingers curving around the joint and drawing her attention. She ends the video and manages a smile as she turns her head.

"Hey, you," she says, lifting her sunglasses into her hair so Rachel can see her eyes. "The work we've been putting in is really paying off. Your kid is going to be a professional."

Rachel's smile is a little sad. "Baby?"

"What's wrong?"

"Do you think you could talk to Beca?" she asks quietly.

Quinn blinks, not expecting that. "Okay," she says anyway. "What am I talking to Beca about?"

"Your parents."

Quinn stiffens automatically. "Why?"

"Baby, you know why."

Quinn sighs, already knowing she's going to do it. Talking about her own experiences isn't something she likes to do, but she sees the merit in sharing. And Beca - lost, misunderstood Beca - needs something. Quinn is willing to help.

Quinn hands Rachel her phone. "Make sure you get her free-kicks," she instructs, and then she heads to where Beca is sitting, the girl nervously wringing her fingers in her lap.

"You really don't have to do this," is the first thing Beca says once Quinn is seated. "I just asked a stupid question, and it's not like - "

"Beca," Quinn says, interrupting her. "It's okay."

"Oh."

"What was the question?"

Beca audibly swallows. "I know who I am," she says. "I've known for a while."

Quinn nods along.

"My father knows, but he's not - " she stops. "He doesn't think it's real, and I don't know what's going to happen when his wife finds out. I don't think he loves me enough to pick me." She blinks. "He's never picked me before."

Quinn presses her lips together. "This probably won't make you feel better, but I haven't seen or spoken to my father since I was sixteen years old."

Beca blanches. "Because you're..." she trails off, unable to use the word out loud.

"No," she says. "Something else happened, and he didn't accept it. We were never really close. He much preferred my older sister. She was the perfect child, and I was... not." She falls silent. "I haven't always known who I am," she starts. "It took me until senior year of high school to have a suspicion, and then until I was a college sophomore to realise and fully accept it. That's the last time I spoke to my mother."

Beca shakes her head. "What about your sister?"

"I can't even remember when we stopped talking," she says, almost offhandedly. Almost as if it doesn't affect her anymore. Which would be a lie.

Beca suddenly feels cold all over.

Quinn shifts closer. "I lost my family, Beca," she says. "Looking back now, I realise I was always going to lose them. It hurts. God, it hurts in ways I'll never be able to explain." She runs a hand through her hair. "But, you know what? You see that woman there, who comes out here and sits in the hot sun because her wife and daughter obsess over soccer, well, she makes everything worth it. She always has. And, as much as losing my family hurts, I don't think it would hurt more than forcing myself to bend to the version of me they wanted."

Beca can barely look at her.

"I don't know your family and, for all you know, they could surprise you with acceptance, but please don't make your decisions based on them. Out of everyone in your world, you're the most important, okay?" Quinn waits. "You're the one who should get to be happy. Okay?"

Beca nods. "Okay."

Quinn smiles softly. "None of it is easy," she says. "I still struggle with it, and I've been married for fourteen years."

"That's practically my whole life."

"Hush, you," Quinn quips, and Beca feels a smile tug at her lips. "Just showing my age."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, Quinn, but you're old."

Quinn smiles. "I kind of am, aren't I?"

"Don't worry," Beca says. "Your secret's safe with me."

Quinn pats her knee once, twice, and then says, "Same here, Bec."

* * *

"Okay, what has you looking so mopey?"

Chloe looks up from where she's been pouting at her phone's screen to see Aubrey eyeing her curiously. "What?"

"You're staring at your phone and sighing," Aubrey points out. "Did you meet someone?"

Chloe almost says yes, but she catches herself just in time. "Not exactly," she says. "It's just music stuff."

That usually gets Aubrey to change the subject. The captaincy is still a bit of a sore point, and Chloe thinks she should feel bad for using it to her advantage, but she really doesn't.

It's just, well, it's _Tuesday_ and Beca still hasn't texted her back. As much as Chloe doesn't want to think it, she suspects she read the entire thing wrong. Beca isn't interested, not even in the music, and Chloe just made a gigantic fool of herself.

This feeling is unfamiliar.

This disappointment. She made the mistake of allowing herself to hope for something, and she was let down. By a stranger.

It's kind of pathetic.

"Are you two sticking around?" a voice suddenly asks, and Chloe snaps to attention to see Dr Fabray standing over where she and Aubrey are spread out on the practice mats in the gym, finishing their warm-down stretches after another gruelling practice.

Chloe says, "Yes," at the same time Aubrey says, "No."

Chloe looks at Aubrey, who shoots her a heated look right back.

Dr Fabray chuckles. "Well, one of you - you decide - come with me to my office. I have the updated squad list for the pin-board."

Chloe shoots to her feet. "I'll come," she says, and then ignores Aubrey as she moves to stand at Dr Fabray's side.

The woman looks deathly amused, and Chloe feels herself blush when she realises she's the reason.

"All right then," Dr Fabray says. "Aubrey, good practice today. See you tomorrow."

Chloe just waves over her shoulder, and then has to walk a little faster to keep up with their coach. Her strides are long, and she walks with such purpose. She has perfect posture, and Chloe imagines this woman never does anything halfheartedly.

They're almost halfway to Dr Fabray's office when she finally speaks, and Chloe is so relieved she's not the one who breaks the silence.

"I haven't yet had a chance to ask," Dr Fabray says. "Are you feeling any different?"

The fact she doesn't ask if Chloe feels _better_ is something the teenager deeply appreciates. "Yes, and no," she answers.

Dr Fabray waits, silent and patient. Their footsteps even slow.

"I think I have an idea what's wrong with me," Chloe starts, only to have Dr Fabray shoot her a look. "Okay, not _wrong_. Just, not the same, I guess." She manages a smile when Dr Fabray nods. "I think I figured it out. Maybe. It's something I'm still trying to wrap my head around, but I'm not so in the dark about everything anymore."

Dr Fabray looks at her for a moment, and Chloe wonders if anything she's said even makes sense to her. It barely makes sense to Chloe.

"I think I understand," Dr Fabray says.

"You do?" Chloe asks, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Could you maybe explain it to me, because I don't?"

Dr Fabray smiles a little knowingly. "I hope you know you can talk to me whenever you're ready," she says. "I'm your English teacher, sure, but I'm also your coach, and your happiness and well-being are my responsibility." She pauses. "Of course, you're not obligated to talk to me, either. I just want you to know you _can_. My senior year was hell on fire, and none of my teachers seemed to care. So, you know, I realise we just met and all, but I do care about you, Chloe. Please believe that."

Chloe doesn't expect to feel as emotional as she does, but it hits her like a bullet, and she stops walking abruptly.

Dr Fabray doesn't say anything as she comes to a stop as well, standing just in front of her, and it's as if she knows. She knows what's going on in Chloe's head, and Chloe is both terrified and relieved by that.

"My brother killed himself earlier this year," she says, practically blurting it out loud. Her eyes are filling with tears. "We could - we could see it, you know? He was spiralling, and - and I didn't do anything. Nobody did anything. Nobody _cared_."

Dr Fabray steps closer, though she doesn't reach out. Her voice is so, so careful when she finally speaks. "Chloe, I know you already know this, but I think you might need to hear it anyway: it wasn't your fault. None of it. Any of it. It wasn't your fault. Not even a little bit."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I not?" she asks. "How can you, kind and gentle and caring Chloe Beale, be even a little bit responsible for something like that? Do you think your brother thinks that?"

Chloe sucks in a sharp breath.

"Do you think he blames you?" Dr Fabray asks. "Do you think he wants you to feel any of this?"

Chloe feels something crack apart in her chest, and it's taking everything she has not to cry. It's catching in her throat, and she can't suppress it. Which isn't helped at all when there are suddenly arms around her, and she's hit by the scent of apples and cinnamon.

Her eyes close at the comfort, Dr Fabray's arms strong around her, and Chloe finally - _finally_ \- breaks.

She's unsure for how long she cries into the woman's shoulder, but it must be a while, because Dr Fabray's shirt is soaked with her tears when she eventually pulls herself together enough to acknowledge how significant this moment is.

"I'm sorry," Chloe says, stepping out of the embrace. "I don't even know what happened."

Dr Fabray takes a handkerchief out of her back pocket and hands it to her. "Don't apologise," she says. "Also, don't ask. My daughter is obsessed with handkerchiefs. Everyone has to carry one now."

Chloe can't stop her giggle at how absurd that is. She wipes at her eyes, relieved she didn't bother to put on any makeup this morning. The handkerchief smells like apples and cinnamon, and Chloe almost asks to keep it, just for the comfort of that scent.

"Now, I have to ask," Dr Fabray asks; "do you feel better?"

Chloe finds herself nodding before the question has even fully registered. She does feel better. Different, but better.

"I'm glad," she says, and she sounds it. "I don't, for a second, think everything is solved with a good cry, but it sure doesn't hurt."

"I beg to differ, Coach," Chloe murmurs; "I now have a headache."

* * *

Rachel is in the kitchen when she hears Quinn get home.

Tiny feet immediately go running, and she turns just in time to see three Berry-Fabray children clambering all over her wife, greeting her excitedly.

This is what she loves. This moment, right here, when the great big world can't touch them. It's just them, loving one another and keeping one another happy. It's all she's ever really wanted.

Quinn lifts Mia off the ground and hangs her upside down, getting giggles from all of them.

"Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mom!" Emma says. "Can we go play? Please? Pretty please."

Quinn sets Mia on the ground and lifts Matty into her arms, smiling when he reaches for her glasses. She looks down at Emma. "Have you finished your homework?" she asks.

Emma's hesitance is answer enough.

Quinn narrows her eyes. "Scoot, you rascal," she says affectionately. "The sooner you're done, the more time we can practice before dinner, okay?"

"Okay," Emma says, and than shoots away, throwing herself into her seat at the dining table, where her homework is already spread out.

Quinn just smiles to herself as she makes her way towards the kitchen where Rachel is leaning against the island, watching her carefully.

"You're late," Rachel says, arms folded across her chest.

"I texted."

Rachel frowns. "That you would be late," she says; "but not why."

Matty squirms in Quinn's arms, and she sets him on the ground before stepping into Rachel's space. Her arms immediately snake around Rachel's waist, pulling her close, and Rachel sighs in content.

"I missed you," Rachel says, actually pouting.

Quinn hums softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I was talking to a student," she says. "The one I told you about on Friday. She kind of had a breakdown this afternoon."

Rachel stiffens. "Is she okay?"

"I think she will be," Quinn says. "She reminds me of myself in so many ways. I don't want to be, but I'm scared _for_ her." She actually shudders. "All I want to do is help."

"I'm sure you are helping, Quinn," Rachel says, running her fingers through blonde hair, constantly marvelling at how soft it is.

Quinn kisses her, soft and slow. "I love you," she whispers. "I've loved you for so long; I can't even remember a time when I didn't feel this head over heels for you."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Even when we were griping at each other."

"Even then," Quinn confirms. "I just didn't know it."

Rachel kisses her this time, sinking into it in a way that makes arousal bloom in her abdomen. She drags her nails against Quinn's scalp, smiling when Quinn lets out a soft groan.

"Rachel," Quinn murmurs, half begging and half in warning.

Rachel forces herself to disengage. There _are_ children in the open-plan room. "Later," she promises, her voice low and dripping with suggestion.

Quinn's pupils dilate right before her eyes, and Rachel just knows Quinn is going to make the next few hours of her life very difficult.

* * *

Sex with Rachel has always been something sacred to Quinn.

Sex in general, really, because she's had only three partners in her life, and each one has taught her something important. Noah let her know she was never ready for what was supposed to be an intense emotional and physical connection, which it didn't end up being with him at all.

That happened in college, with her first official girlfriend, Jackie Collins, who Quinn credits for teaching her nearly everything she needed to know about being in a relationship, regardless of whether it was a lesbian one.

That was a steep learning curve, both in and out of the bedroom, and Quinn has been thankful for it ever since.

They even keep in contact still, sending periodic emails just updating each other about their lives. Rachel appreciates the role Jackie played in Quinn's life, because it all helped her prepare and get herself ready for the relationship that was always going to last a lifetime.

Quinn wasn't with Jackie for very long: a little more than six months. Jackie graduated and moved on, she and Quinn ending rather organically. The summer following Quinn's sophomore year brought her right back into Rachel's orbit, and they've been circling each other ever since.

Quinn was very careful in the beginning, wanting to make sure Rachel was actually sure about the emotional part of a relationship with her. Quinn didn't think she would survive something solely physical.

Not with Rachel.

Never with Rachel.

Which is really why sex is so special to Quinn. They've had twenty years to explore and learn each other's bodies. So, Quinn _knows_. She knows exactly what gets her wife running hot, and she makes sure to press all those buttons while they see out dinner and put their children to bed.

It's really the best part of having young children: they go to sleep early.

Rachel is already visibly wound up when Quinn sets a sleeping Matty in his crib, and she barely has time to make sure the door doesn't close completely before she's being shoved against the wall and kissed so thoroughly that she ends up seeing stars.

"Later is now," Rachel growls into her mouth, and Quinn finds herself smiling. And then groaning when sharp teeth bite her bottom lip.

Quinn lifts Rachel off her feet, her wife coming to expect the display of strength.

"When was the last time we did this?" Rachel asks as she peppers kisses along Quinn's neck, her arms and legs wrapped around her wife's lean body.

"What?" Quinn asks.

"Actually taken our time," she murmurs.

Quinn can't remember, and she says as much as she steers them into their bedroom and makes sure to lock the door. They'll unlock it later. Right now, she intends to worship her wife's body and show her just how much she loves and adores and appreciates her.

They don't get this opportunity often anymore. At least, not really since Matty was born. Most of the sex they've had has been quick, almost stolen moments when their children are occupied or in that short space of time between putting them to bed and the inevitable nighttime wake-ups.

With a new baby, LeRoy's diagnosis and their summer move, their relationship has taken a backseat. Quinn can't remember the last time they even went on a date.

The thought gives her anxiety, though, because she's unsure if she's willing to brave the Lima restaurant life with her wife.

Who, outside of this town, is famous in many different circles, but is just a gay woman to the Lima onlooker. She supposes that's the one good thing about being out of the city and in this weird town: there's no limelight, anywhere.

"Quinn," Rachel says, tugging on her hair and bringing her back to what she's doing. Oh, right. Setting Rachel on the bed.

Rachel pulls her down with her, and Quinn willingly goes, her hands itching to touch.

Just, itching to love.

* * *

Beca actually does the thing and attempts to find Chloe on Wednesday. She searches the corridors and even ventures into the areas she knows she'll find an abundance of seniors.

Nothing.

It's only after school lets out that she remembers that Chloe mentioned she was in show choir and that they meet in the Choir Room in the afternoon.

Only, Beca has no idea where the Choir Room is, and she has to ask the reception for directions, blushing the entire time. Of course, she knows the school has a rather comprehensive Music Department, but she doesn't think there's actually anything for _her_. She checked on the brochures and list of clubs. There's been talk of re-introducing a radio station, but Beca thinks her talents will be wasted anywhere else.

It's something she's coming to accept. She has talent. She knows she does. Maybe Rachel will be able to steer her in the correct direction to hone whatever skills she currently has. Most of what she's already learned comes from watching _YouTube_ videos.

That'll be a nice story to tell one day.

Beca isn't sure what to expect when she finally finds the choir room, and she just manages to catch herself before her face appears in the window of the door. She wouldn't even know how to explain herself if someone were to see her and draw attention to her presence.

So, she hovers, feeling awkward and so young as she tries to figure out what to do. She hasn't felt this way in a while, and she's not sure she likes it. It feels as if she's doing something wrong. And, plus, it's not as if she even knows if Chloe is in there. She's too scared to look inside.

But, then, she hears her voice, loud and clear and unmistakable, and Beca freezes, because Chloe isn't talking.

She's singing.

Beca isn't romantic in the slightest. She's never really seen the appeal in actual relationships at this age or spending time with only one person for the rest of one's life. It's always baffled her.

But, the second she hears Chloe sing _Walk Me Home_ by Pink, Beca feels all her good sense escape her. It's all she can do not to walk right into the room in an attempt to get closer to the sound that her teenage brain now believes has _claimed_ her.

Beca sucks in a breath, trying to catch it, and her heart pounds at the sheer idea that any of this is even happening. She doesn't need this. She doesn't even _want_ this.

Her mother warned her about this kind of thing.

Which is why she steps back, once, twice, and then forces herself to turn around and walk away. Her skin is prickling, and she's irritated with herself. What did she think was going to happen when she found Chloe? What did she think would happen if she got her phone back and actually started a conversation with the girl?

It's better to nix this before she really does something stupid. So what if the girl can sing? Who cares if her voice is heavenly?

Beca doesn't.

Not even a little bit.

Beca knows she's lying to herself. She's self-aware enough to recognise it.

But, really, she's spent so long lying to everyone else, why not just add herself to the list?

* * *

Chloe's disappointment manifests itself as music, which is the only positive to come out of the entire Beca misunderstanding. She half expected the girl to show up to the choir room to audition, and she spent a little too much time staring forlornly at the door, hoping Beca would surprise her.

Nothing.

They did manage to find two more members, though, and Dr Berry's smile was blinding when Chloe introduced them. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and they even performed their first group song together, Chloe leading for the first time.

It was weird. Strange. She's used to following Aubrey, and it was clear to her that the new dynamic was foreign to her best friend as well.

Dr Berry, though, tells her it's a good start when she lingers after everyone has already left following dismissal.

"Are you sure?" Chloe finds herself asking. "It didn't feel... good."

"It was rough," Dr Berry says, ever truthful. "Very rough, in fact, but I think the barebones are decent. We'll need a lot of work, obviously, but I'm willing to put in the work if you are."

Chloe nods. "I am," she confirms, and then lets out a breath. "Dr B, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Chloe," she says, giving Chloe her full attention. "What is it?"

"Why did you pick me?"

"Pick you?"

"To be the Captain," she clarifies, the volume of her voice dropping. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

That's the question, isn't it? Chloe's always been so sure of who she is, but then her brother died, and she suddenly had no idea. She still doesn't, and all these feelings inside of her are so foreign.

Chloe clears her throat. "I tried to recruit another member over the weekend," she says. "I was hoping she would show up today, but I guess I'm not as charming as I like to think I am."

Dr Berry smiles knowingly. "I think your charm powers work just fine," she says. "Maybe she's just not interested in music."

"But, that's the thing," Chloe argues. "She is. She definitely is. I mean, I even batted my eyelashes and everything."

Dr Berry laughs softly. "Maybe she just couldn't make it," she offers. "We'll see if she shows on Friday, okay? Have you been in contact with her since then?"

Chloe shakes her head, resisting the urge to sigh. "I've tried texting her, but she hasn't responded."

Dr Berry gives her a curious look, as if she can hear something significant in her voice. Something like longing, wistfulness, dashed hope.

"I'm sure it's nothing to do with you, Chloe," Dr Berry says, and it's as if she's telling her something else entirely. As if they're not even talking about Beca anymore.

Chloe just nods. "Maybe," she allows, wondering how it is she manages to have these types of conversations with her teachers. "Anyway, I should probably get going," she says, bending to retrieve her bag. "See you tomorrow, Dr B."

Dr Berry doesn't bid her farewell. Instead, she says, "I picked you because you're the best person for the job. There's really nothing else to it."

Chloe's brain tells her not to believe it, but she does.

She really, really does.

* * *

While Rachel thinks it's probably too soon to visit her fathers again, Quinn insists on going to their house for dinner.

"We can make it a Wednesday thing," she says over the phone, and Rachel sighs on her end. She's at the grocery store with Emma, the two of them picking up whatever Quinn needs for the dinner she intends to cook at Rachel's parents' house.

"Are you sure you're ready for this today?"

"I'm fine," Quinn says, her voice low but imploring. "Is it too soon for you?"

Rachel hesitates, rolling the cart along. "Dad did say it's been a good day, so maybe we should take advantage of it."

"Baby," Quinn murmurs. "That's not an answer to the question I asked. Is it too soon for you? Tell me the truth."

"I'm okay," Rachel says. "I promise."

"If you're sure," Quinn says, sounding sceptical.

"I am."

"Okay, then," she says. "I love you, and I'll see you in a bit."

"I love you, too," Rachel says.

"Don't forget the vanilla bean paste," Quinn says, before she hangs up, and Rachel laughs to herself, because her wife is sometimes a dork.

Rachel puts her phone back in her bag and then looks at Emma. "Your Mom is weird," she says.

"I know," Emma easily returns, and Rachel smiles so widely that her cheeks hurt. "Can we get some _Skittles_?" she asks.

Rachel gives her a look.

"Please."

Rachel puts a hand on top of her head. "I sincerely hope you aren't forgetting your manners now that you're some hotshot soccer player, Emma Riley Berry-Fabray."

"No, Ma," Emma says, blinking. "I just really want _Skittles_."

"Hmm," she says. "The sweets should be in the next aisle, okay? Go pick them out, and then wait for me there. Don't talk to anyone, okay?"

Emma nods, puffing out her chest, and then taking off.

This is something Rachel and Quinn have discussed: giving Emma more freedom and responsibility. It's terrifying, sure, but Quinn doesn't want to raise a sheltered child.

Rachel takes a deep breath, and releases it slowly while she quickly gathers what they need from this aisle.

Her heart is beating a little too fast just having Emma out of her sight, and she rounds the aisle quickly, following her daughter's steps. At first, Rachel doesn't see Emma, and her heart leaps into her throat.

But, then, there she is, partially hidden by a woman, who's almost standing over her and saying, "Sorry, it's just you look exactly like my daughter."

Emma steps back, and that's when she sees Rachel. "Mama," she says, sounding confused and scared and so, so young.

The woman turns around, and Rachel comes face-to-face with Judy Fabray for the first time in more than two decades. Her breath catches at the sight of the aged woman, but her priority is Emma.

"Sweetheart," Rachel says, holding out her hand. "Come here. It's okay."

Emma ducks out from behind Judy and rushes to Rachel's side, wrapping arms around her waist. "You said not to talk to strangers," she says. "I promise I didn't. I promise."

"It's okay, baby," Rachel coos, smoothing a hand over her hair. "I know you didn't. You were very good."

Emma squeezes her tighter, and Rachel feels her heart crack. This is one of the things she and Quinn knew they might need to face: Judy Fabray.

Right now, though, she's just a woman who's managed to frighten a nine-year-old. _Rachel's_ nine-year-old.

Rachel's eyes are hard when she lifts her head to look at Judy, the older woman looking pale with disbelief. Her eyes are on Emma, wide and teary.

Well.

Emma tugs on Rachel's shirt. "Why did that woman call me Mommy's name?" she asks, and Judy's gasp is audible.

Rachel ignores her. "I don't know, baby," she says, her eyes of Emma. "She's probably just confused."

"Oh."

"Did you get your sweets?" she asks.

Emma shakes her head, her face pressed against Rachel's ribs. "I don't want them anymore."

"That's okay," Rachel says. "Maybe we can get some ice cream later," she offers, and then steers Emma around, intending to get her daughter out of here as quickly as possible.

Except, Judy does the thing and says, "Wait."

Rachel freezes, turns back and says, "No, there's no _wait_." Her voice is harsh but controlled. "Don't. Just, don't." And then she's really walking away, guiding Emma along.

They've just made it to the next aisle when Emma asks, "Who was that lady, Mama?" and Rachel has no idea what to say.

* * *

Quinn notices, the moment they arrive, the way Emma clings to Rachel. She doesn't even have to ask to figure out something very significant happened since they last spoke, and she only finds out just what when she's crawling into bed beside her wife.

"We bumped into Judy today."

Quinn freezes, her fluffing of her pillow pausing. "Oh."

"She noticed Emma first, and told her she looked like her daughter," Rachel explains. "I didn't tell Emma anything, but she has questions, and I don't know what to tell her."

Quinn lies down, relaxing into the mattress. "We were bound to see her," she says, blinking a few times. "We knew this when we decided to make the move back. I just thought we would have more time, though."

"Nothing has to happen," Rachel tells her, rolling onto her side and propping herself up on her elbow. "Baby, we don't have to do anything." Her left hand rests on Quinn's stomach, warm and present, marvelling at the fact this body has given her a family.

"It doesn't matter," Quinn says. "She knows Emma exists. She'll find us if she wants to."

Rachel lets out a breath.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to deny my children a relationship with their grandmother if she's willing."

Rachel bristles, because, God, she knows _she's_ strong enough. "We don't have to do anything," she repeats anyway.

Quinn turns slightly to kiss her. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you so much."

Rachel smiles against Quinn's mouth, and this is one of those everything moments. "I promise it's all going to be okay," she murmurs. "We've survived everything else; we'll survive this."

* * *

"I have to check a book out of the library," Chloe says when Aubrey asks if she's ready to head to the gym for practice after school lets out. "I'll meet you there."

Aubrey just nods, already on her way. "Don't be late," she warns over her shoulder. "Remember what happened to Sarah."

Chloe actually shudders at the memory. Sarah Mills arrived five minutes late for practice and Dr Fabray made her run laps for the entire two hours. The girl ended up throwing up.

Chloe rushes to the library, knowing she has about twenty minutes with which to play. She needs to pick up a textbook for World History, needing specific articles for her next set of discursive essays. She's a girl on a mission, already knowing where to get it.

Obviously, non-fiction is somewhere in the back, far enough in the library that Chloe doesn't really register the sound of someone singing softly until she's right on top of that someone.

Beca.

The girl stops singing abruptly, scrambling to her feet, and Chloe realises belatedly that she actually said the girl's name out loud.

Whoops.

"Chloe," Beca says, her voice a little high, and Chloe really has no idea how to react to her. Is she supposed to say something? Ask her why she hasn't contacted her? Ignore her completely?

The choice is taken from her when her own brain and body defy her and say, "You _can_ sing."

Beca sputters, her nose crinkling, and Chloe really shouldn't find it as cute as she does. "What?"

"You said you couldn't sing," Chloe says.

"I said I _don't_ sing," Beca says.

"Why didn't you come audition then?"

Beca blinks, still looking adorably confused. "I - " she starts. "I just don't think it's for me."

"Why?"

"I'm not a... people person."

Chloe hums, not commenting. "You were singing _Titanium_ ," she says.

Beca's eyes widen slightly, but she nods. "You know David Guetta?"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "I told you I know music," she says. "Everyone knows David Guetta. And Sia." She pauses. "Sing with me."

"What?"

"Sing with me."

"Dude, no."

"Come on," Chloe says. "You've been ignoring me. The least you can do is sing with me."

Beca blushes, which is an unexpected reaction. "I'm not ignoring you," she says. "Don't laugh or anything, but I kind of got grounded and I haven't had access to my phone all week."

Chloe takes a moment to register the words, and then she bursts out laughing.

"I said don't laugh," Beca says, and her irritated huff is just the cutest thing. "It's been a nightmare."

Chloe takes her time calming down, and her answering smile is serene. "Come on, rebel without a cause, just sing with me. Make my day. I promise it'll make you feel better."

"Doubtful."

"Come on."

"We're in the library."

Chloe raises her eyebrows. "That didn't stop you before."

"That's different," Beca argues. "It was under my breath. I don't project well, and I don't even know how to harmonise."

Chloe steps forward, and she's so tempted to bring out the puppy-dog eyes. "Please," she says. She's half-aware she's probably going to end up late for practice, but she has a feeling this is worth it.

Which is confirmed a minute later when she and Beca make music together.

 _They make music_.

Eyes locked, voices in harmony, everything about this moment is significant. Chloe feels her heart threaten to burst, but she feels so very calm. Settled in a way she's probably never felt before.

This moment, here with Beca, feels so, so important.

The song comes to a simple end, and neither of them says anything for the longest time, just continuing to stare at each other. Beca looks a little shellshocked, and Chloe imagines her own facial expression must mirror hers.

"Wow," she finally says.

"Yeah," Beca echoes. "Wow."

Chloe blinks slowly. "You don't sing, huh?"

Beca blushes, shrugs, and then fiddles with her bracelets. "That's what I said."

Chloe shakes her head. "You confuse me, Beca," she says, and then glances at her wrist. Shit. She's going to be late. "Look, will you please just come and try out?" she asks. "Tomorrow, after school, at the Choir Room. We need you, okay?"

Beca opens her mouth to respond, but Chloe just keeps talking.

"Think about it," she rushes. "I've got to go though, okay? See you tomorrow." She surprises them both when she surges forward to hug Beca, and then freezes when Beca stiffens at the contact.

Chloe immediately releases her, mumbling a hasty apology. "Music," she says as an explanation. "It gets me excited." She pauses. "Particularly that song." Her voice is just suggestive enough that there's a second meaning in there that Beca is welcome to pick up on.

She does, from the slight widening of her eyes.

Okay.

Chloe really has to go now.

"Wait," Beca suddenly says. "I have that playlist for you."

Chloe wouldn't even be able to describe the burst of emotion in her chest at the sound of that, and she grins somewhat stupidly. "Bring it to your audition," she says, cheekily.

"But I'm not - "

"Later, Beca," she interrupts with a sweet smile, and then she's turning and rushing off - running, really - suddenly feeling incredibly giddy.

What textbook anyway?

* * *

Beca is still thinking about Chloe and Chloe's voice and Chloe's arms when Sheila arrives to pick her up. She grumbles out a greeting as she slams the door shut and puts on her seatbelt.

Sheila looks over at her and says, "Hello, Beca, how was school?"

It's the first time she's ever asked that question, and Beca looks over at her warily. "It was fine," she says hesitantly.

Sheila hums. "How are your classes?"

Beca blinks. "They're fine," she says.

"And your extracurriculars?"

Beca faces forward, frowning. "I - I'm not doing any," she says, though she suspects Sheila already knows that.

"No sports?"

"I'm not very athletic," she says, which is an understatement. She's really the clumsiest person she knows.

"Then some sort of club," she says. "It'll be good for you, I think. Help you make friends. Keep you busy and out of trouble."

Beca grits her teeth. "Trouble," she echoes.

"You're grounded for a reason, Beca," she says. "Your father and I were thinking it's best if you don't come to Aaron's practices anymore."

Beca stares at her for a long moment. "Why?" she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

Sheila lies anyway. "We just think it's a waste of your time, and you could be doing something more productive, developing skills and adding to your potential college application."

"I'm not going to college," she says, almost automatically. She has a plan already; she's had it since she was old enough to know what she wanted. She's going straight to Los Angeles to make music once this torture that is high school is over.

Sheila actually looks scandalised, and it's the second greatest thing Beca's ever seen, behind the vein that pops in her father's forehead when she pushes his buttons just right.

Sheila clears her throat. "We still think you should think of participating more in school," she says. "Something to keep you busy in the afternoons."

Beca rolls her eyes. "Why don't you just say what you really want to say?" she mutters.

Sheila pretends not to hear her.

Whatever.

Beca looks out the window as Lima passes her by, and she suddenly misses her mother so acutely that her heart aches. She really wishes she had her phone.

She wishes a lot of things.

And, one of them comes true when they arrive at the pitch after picking up Aaron, and Rachel is already sitting in Beca's usual seat. She doesn't even bother to look at Sheila as she takes off to sit next to the woman who's shown more kindness to her than her family combined.

Beca huffs out a breath and glares at Sheila when the woman narrows her eyes at her. She knows she's going to have to deal with the consequences later, but she doesn't care.

Rachel seems to wait until Beca has settled to speak. "I think that's the first direct death stare I've received; in Lima, at least," she observes, sounding almost amused. "Did I actually do something, or does she just hate that I married a woman?"

Beca winces. "Both, probably," she says. "I'm sorry."

"I really wish you wouldn't apologise for other people," she says. "It's something you're going to have to learn, Beca."

"It still sucks," she says. "You've been nothing but kind to me, and now they want me to stop coming to Aaron's practices."

Rachel blinks. "Wow," she says. "That's extreme."

Beca sighs, and then feels very, very small. Young. A little lost, because who is she supposed to talk to about any of this stuff if she can't talk to Rachel or Quinn? She doesn't have friends and, even if she did, she doesn't think she would be comfortable talking about this stuff.

Rachel bumps her shoulder, getting her attention. "Besides dealing with unreasonable parents, how has your week gone?"

Beca shakes her head to clear it. "Something really weird happened today."

"Define 'weird.'"

Beca grins, small and a little mischievous. "It's about my new maybe-friend," she explains, and then blushes when Rachel does an excited little dance in her seat. "She's really... lovely."

" _Flowers_ are lovely, Beca," she says, looking unimpressed. "Tell me more." She drops the volume of her voice to a whisper. "It's okay to tell me, you know," she lets Beca know. "It's okay to talk about it with me. Whatever you want to say, you can say it." She pauses. "Maybe I should start, okay? Here we go: I find Quinn incredibly hot. Like, have you seen her? I totally want to have her babies."

Beca giggles. She actually giggles, and she covers her mouth to stop the embarrassing sound. "That's far too much information for my innocent ears," she says.

Rachel tugs on the shell of her left ear. "Sure it is," she quips.

Beca shrugs slightly, and then says, "She has the bluest eyes I've ever seen. It's insane. It's like they aren't even real."

Rachel smiles encouragingly.

"She's also really pretty," she says shyly. "It's a little overwhelming, and I feel like such a hopeless idiot in her presence."

Rachel beams at her, her own excitement palpable. "Beca has a crush," she whispers.

"I generally don't like happy people," Beca says; "or the ones who try too hard to pretend they are."

"Is she one of them?"

"A bit of both, yes," she says. "But, there's something else. She's happy, but she's also not." She falls silent for a moment, contemplating her next words. If this is the last time she's going to get to interact with Rachel, she may as well. "Kind of like you and Quinn."

Rachel looks momentarily stunned, but her features eventually soften. "I suppose that makes sense," she says. "I'm not surprised it's something you've been able to notice in people."

"Why do you say that?"

Rachel regards her carefully. "Perhaps you recognise something of yourself when you look at us," she suggests.

"I don't feel very happy."

"Not even when you're making music?"

Here, Beca pauses, because she's unsure the answer is the negative. Music does offer her something of an escape. It gives her purpose and belief. It gives her something like happiness.

"Maybe it's the same for this girl," Rachel says. "We all have demons we're constantly fighting, Beca."

Beca glances at her. "Do they ever go away?"

"Sometimes," she allows. "Sometimes they disappear completely. Sometimes, you discover new ones. Sometimes, they win, and sometimes you do."

It suddenly all sounds so serious, and Beca wishes she could go back to a time when she was still a kid. She almost laughs when she can't remember when that was.

Has she ever been?

She's reminded, once more, of that Christmas when she was five. It feels like her last happy memory. Before her father started disappearing from time to time, and then completely.

"Can I ask you something?" Beca asks.

"Of course," Rachel says. Then, giving it a moment of thought, she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a business card and a pen. "This is my number, okay, and I'm writing Quinn's on the back. You can call or text or whatever - no pranking - if ever you need anything, okay? Even if it's just to ask something random like what's the best brand of cream cheese." She hands the card over, and Beca's fingers are shaking as she takes it.

Beca stares down at the little rectangle, her eyes blinking. It's plain white, with the words Rachel Berry written above Actress/Singer and her contact information.

"It's an old card," Rachel says, and Beca swears she blushes. "I had them made when I was still in college and just starting out in the business," she explains. "They were originally yellow, but my best friend, Kurt, convinced me that was a bit much."

"The business?" Beca asks dumbly.

"Oh, right, I forget people have no idea who I am in this town," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm an actress slash singer, Beca. Have been since I was your age."

"Am I supposed to know who you are?"

Rachel laughs softly. "Probably not," she says. "Unless you're a Broadway fan."

"Broadway? As in New York?"

Rachel nods. "It's where we moved from," she explains.

"Wait," Beca says; "you're new to Lima too?"

Rachel winces. "Not exactly, no," she says. "We went to high school here. I was born and grew up here. My parents still live here. They're really the reason we're back. That, and raising children in New York is frightening in its own way."

Beca, admittedly, feels a little overwhelmed by the amount of information she's just been given. "Are you saying that, if I _Google_ you, I'll find you?"

"Or, if you wanted to find me, all you have to do is call," she says with a fond-sounding sigh. "So, what was it you wanted to ask?"

"Whoa, no ways," she says. "This is so much more important. You're like an actual famous person."

Rachel sighs again. "Only in certain circles," she says. "I kind of took my gas off the proverbial pedal after Mia was born. It's easy to fall into some sense of obscurity when you aren't leading any Broadway shows anymore."

"You don't sound sad about it," Beca observes.

"I'm not," she says. "For so long, I wanted all the fame and the awards and accolades. I worked so hard, from day one, to reach the highest glories. And then I did, and none of it felt as good as having a home to go to, where Quinn would be waiting for me." She smiles a little dreamily. "And then Emma arrived, and it made me question why I ever put so much stock into success at all, when my greatest accomplishment is the little family I've managed to build for myself."

Beca just listens, oddly fascinated. "Wouldn't you go for it then, if you had the chance to do it over?"

"I would," she says. "Performing has always been a passion of mine. I don't think I could have been happy if I wasn't actively pursuing it. I think I needed to experience it, and be able to compare it to the unexpected life I never knew I wanted."

"What about now?"

"Now, I suppose, I'm still involved in music," she says. "Just, in a different way. It's, perhaps, less satisfying in the sense I'm not centre stage anymore, but it's been some years since, and I think I'm surviving." She lets out a small laugh. "Quinn makes me perform for her, claiming I need to get it out of my system, but I think she just likes it when I sing."

"You must be good," Beca says, already making plans to look her up when she gets home.

Rachel hums, not commenting, and Beca reasons that says much more than any words might.

"Did you always know?" Beca suddenly asks, almost blurting it out.

Rachel gives her a questioning look. "That I wanted to perform, yes," she says. "That I liked girls, no."

Beca ducks her head. "I'm asking about the latter," she whispers.

"Quinn and I both dated boys throughout high school," she says. "We even shared a few."

Beca scrunches up her nose. "Ew."

Rachel laughs. "I almost married one," she says with a shake of her head. "Our friend, Santana, goes on and on about how much _Quinn_ was in denial, but she seems to forget I seemed to be as well, determined to tie myself to the boys in my life." She shifts in her seat, getting more comfortable. "College was hard. I was away from home, and I discovered that there are actually a lot of talented people out there, a lot even more than me.

"Quinn came out first, in our sophomore year. It was a big deal for her, and for everyone, really. For so long, she was... lost and unhappy, and that was really when she started to become herself. And, seriously, I've never really stood a chance."

Beca grins, because this is all turning into something she wants. In the future. She wants to be able to tell the story of her own love. Maybe. Some day. In some future when relationships aren't these scary things to her anymore.

"My coming out was less exciting," Rachel says. "There weren't any bells and whistles. It kind of just was a thing and, the summer after sophomore year, Quinn kissed me for the first time, and we've been together ever since." Her smile turns a little dreamy. "My being... fluid, I guess, wasn't met with any scrutiny - bar a few of my ex-boyfriends, I guess - so that's never been something I have to worry about.

"What did play on my mind, and on Quinn's, was how it would affect my work and career. The reality is there are people in power out there who aren't accepting, and they can use it to derail careers and close doors. Quinn wanted to keep us a secret, just to protect me, but I've never wanted that. Our love, as explosive as it can sometimes get, is not something I've ever wanted either of us to be ashamed of."

Beca blinks. "Do you think my father is ashamed of me?"

Rachel touches her shoulder, squeezing softly. "I think your father just doesn't understand," she says. "Sometimes, they just need time to wrap their heads around it."

"He's had months," she points out.

Rachel presses her lips together for a moment. "Have you ever actually talked to him about it?" she asks. "Like, actually sat down and explained to him that it's all real, and it hurts when he attempts to deny it?"

Beca looks away. "My mom's the one who told him," she says. "She asked my permission first, and I said yes, half hoping he would refuse to let me come live with him after - " she stops, her breath catching. "Just, after."

Rachel looks at her as if she already knows what Beca can't bring herself to say out loud. It's there, and she thinks it might help to talk about it with Rachel, but the words are stuck.

She's not ready.

Rachel smiles softly, as if she realises the truth of it. "Maybe you should consider it," she says. "Sometimes, they need a little help."

"Is that what Quinn did with her mother?"

Rachel's smile falters. "Sort of," she confesses. "Quinn already suspected which way it would go. The woman was talking about getting back together with her husband, who is probably the most awful man you will ever have the displeasure of meeting. So, Quinn knew it would probably end badly. Still, she sat down with Judy, her mother, and tried to explain just who she was; who she'd always been and just never been able to recognise for what it was.

"It went poorly, and Judy asked Quinn to leave. Quinn was very calm about it, I think having already accepted it. But I can tell it still hurts her, to this day. I try to be everything she needs. It's helped having the children, but there's always a part missing. Sometimes, the role a mother plays is irreplaceable."

Beca thinks Rachel is trying to tell her something very specific, but the words seem too personal to have much to do with Beca, at all.

"Speaking of," Rachel suddenly says, her gaze snapping up.

Beca follows it to see Quinn just arriving, dressed in bright blue running shorts that are borderline indecent and a paler blue skintight t-shirt that shows off the tattoos along her upper left arm. Her hair is tied back, already looking a little slick with sweat, and Beca _gets it_.

"Is it wildly inappropriate to say I have a crush on your wife?" Beca finds herself asking before she can stop herself.

Rachel just chuckles. "You and me, both, Bec," she says. "Perhaps even others, who really knows?"

Beca takes one look around at all the other soccer moms, and it's almost unprecedented the way none of them seems to be able to look away from Quinn's approach, the sunglasses on her face hiding her eyes.

Beca laughs. "God, it's totally going to suck missing out on all of this," she grumbles.

And, when Quinn spots them, grins stupidly, drops her glasses just a bit and winks, Beca is never more sure of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Quinn knows Rachel is aware she gets her rocks off pissing off prissy older women. It just makes her so undeniably happy seeing their disapproval and watching them try not to stare.

She loves it.

It's half the reason she shows up like a poster-girl lesbian, and she rolls her eyes at herself the second the thought crosses her mind. Talk about scandalous.

She has one of Emma's soccer balls tucked under her arm and, if she really wanted to, she could definitely put on a show for these judgmental women.

Well.

She'll see how she feels. First, she needs to say hello to her wife and Beca, make sure Emma is getting the right attention from her coach, and then she'll decide if she's feeling up to showing off some ball skills.

The thought makes her smirk, and she's suddenly aware of how dangerous she is when she steps up onto the bleachers and heads turn. It almost reminds her of high school, and she feels slightly nostalgic.

And, there Rachel is, who basically embodies her entire high school experience.

Rachel, who's looking at her with hungry eyes and parted lips. Rachel, who immediately grabs onto her shirt and tugs her down to sit beside her, almost too close to be appropriate.

" _What_ are you wearing?" she hisses.

Quinn's smirk grows. "Clothes."

"Those are not clothes," she says. "Baby, why aren't you wearing clothes?"

Quinn rolls her eyes behind her glasses, and then holds her fist out to Beca. "Hey, Bec," she says with a smile. "How's everything going?"

Beca stares at her for a beat too long, and then clears her throat. "Fine," she says, croaking. She shakes her head. "I'm fine, I guess," she reiterates. "My life is about to be ruined, but I'm totally cool."

Quinn lifts her sunglasses onto her head, her smile slipping into a frown as she sets the ball on the bench between her feet. "What's going on?" she asks, looking from Beca to Rachel, and then back to Beca. "Who do I have to beat up?"

Rachel laughs softly, her hand resting on Quinn's forearm, just needing to touch her. Quinn can see the way the heat is rising up Rachel's neck, and she can only imagine just how aroused her wife is.

"Nobody," Beca says. "Just, you know, apparently I need to find something more productive to do with my afternoons, because I seem to be acting out, given that I'm supposedly hanging out with the wrong people."

The change in Quinn is instant. She goes from idly playful to Head Bitch in zero-point-seven seconds, and she's aware of Beca's widening eyes.

"Quinn," Rachel murmurs. "Don't."

"Don't what?" she hisses. "What the fuck, Rachel?"

Beca flinches, and Rachel squeezes her arm in warning.

"Baby, please," Rachel soothes, and Quinn stops seeing red. "We both know doing anything can and will make it worse for Beca."

Quinn's jaw is still clenched, but she nods her head, knowing the truth of it. "Fuck," she still says, and she gets an amused eye-roll from Rachel and a bemused smile from Beca.

It takes Quinn another four minutes to calm, barely, and she uses the steady movement of children running on the soccer field to lull her into some sense of serenity. Her breathing slows, and she drops her sunglasses again, needing a moment to decompress.

She thinks she's definitely going to need to play some soccer to get rid of all the tension in her body. It's either that or she and Rachel are going to need to disappear for a bit of adult time, and she doesn't think Emma or Beca will appreciate that.

Eventually, her shoulders lose their rigidity, and she feels Rachel's left hand slide around her elbow, just holding onto her.

"Please tell me you did not run practice in that getup," Rachel whispers.

Quinn smiles to herself. "Of course not," she says. "I was literally squatting with them, baby. They would have seen things they definitely shouldn't."

"So, this outfit isn't okay for your cheerleaders, but fine for a kids' soccer practice?"

Quinn shrugs. "What can I say?" she asks, all innocence. "I must be confused or something."

"You're an idiot."

"You love me."

Rachel leans into her slightly, and Quinn knows she's resisting the urge to kiss her.

It's cute, and Quinn whispers, "I love you," just loud enough for her wife to hear.

Quinn looks past Rachel at Beca, whose own eyes are staring quite intently at the tattoos on Quinn's upper arm.

"You can ask," she says, and Beca immediately looks away, flushing at being caught staring. "I don't mind," Quinn adds. "I got them for people to see. They're personal, sure, but you can look."

Beca swallows, her eyes drifting back to the ink on Quinn's arm. "Did they hurt?"

"Not really," she answers. "At first, it's a little weird, but you get used to it quickly, and then it all kind of fades away to nothing."

"I want to get one," Beca says. "I've had it planned for a while now, but I'm not old enough."

Quinn nods. "I'd probably wait, yeah," she says. "One of the girls in my Intro to Screenwriting class once told me to wait a year on something you decide to put on your body for forever. It's very likely you might change your mind."

"I won't," Beca says, and she sounds so certain. It actually catches Quinn and Rachel off guard, but they seem to understand when she very quietly adds, "I'm going to get my mom's name tattooed on me, whether my father likes it or not."

Rachel smiles softly, gently squeezing her knee.

"Names are good," Quinn says, gesturing to a part of her arm, where Beca can see a shelf of books with several names written on each of the spines. They wrap around her bicep, carefully supported by a pair of hands that Beca imagines look like Quinn's. "Though, make sure you don't get any girlfriends on there before you put a ring on it, okay? It gets awkward very quickly, and getting tattoos removed isn't fun. Like, at all."

"Is that what happened to you?"

Rachel snorts in laughter, and Quinn shoots her a look. "Beca," she says, shaking her head.

"Don't you dare," Quinn says.

Rachel ignores her. "When we were high school seniors, she got Ryan Seacrest tattooed on her lower back."

Beca's mouth drops open, and Quinn groans loudly. "You're kidding?"

"I swear," Rachel says around another laugh.

"Sure, sure," Quinn grumbles. "Just mock me, why don't you?"

Rachel just smiles at her. "I much prefer the tattoos you have now," she says.

"You're only saying that because your name is permanently on my skin," she points out.

Rachel shrugs, somewhat unapologetically, and Quinn can feel Beca's gaze on her arm again.

"Is Elizabeth an ex-girlfriend?" Beca asks, and Quinn freezes, slightly caught off guard. "Oh," Beca immediately backtracks, sensing she might have asked a question she shouldn't. "Sorry. I didn't mean - "

"It's okay," Quinn says, even though it might not be. She looks down at her own arm, noting the way Elizabeth is the second book on the shelf, second to Lucy and followed by Rachel, and then Emma, Amelia and finally Matthew.

The most important people in her life.

"Not an ex-girlfriend," Quinn tells Beca, trying not to cringe at the mere thought of Beth that way. "I'll tell you about her one day, okay?"

"Okay."

Quinn can feel a little awkwardness in the air, and she's relieved when Rachel eases it by saying, "Beca's making friends."

Quinn's eyes light up. "Her own age?"

Rachel shrugs, and looks at Beca. "Is she your age?" she asks. "We don't even know how old you are."

"She's two years older," Beca answers, and Quinn can tell she's resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "And, I'm fifteen."

Quinn exaggerates a gasp. "She's a child, Rachel," she says dramatically. "What are we doing with such a youngling?"

Rachel shakes her head, clearly amused. "And, imagine, she studied Drama at college."

Beca's eyes widen, and Quinn ducks her head, trying to stave off any questions. She's perfectly fine with Rachel talking about her when she's not around, but she turns into an awkward mess when anyone praises her accomplishments in her presence.

It's not even as if she did anything with that Minor in Drama beyond a few Yale productions. It's her Major that's allowed her to make the kind of money that allows her to teach high school English and still drive a fancy car, own a six-bedroom house all while having time to play soccer with her oldest child.

Speaking of.

"I better head down there," Quinn says when the coach brings the practice to a stop. "Emma might skin me alive if I keep her waiting."

"She might skin you alive for showing up in that outfit," Rachel mutters.

Quinn grins at her. "You grumble about it now, but we'll see who's going to be drooling in the next few minutes."

"Me, and everyone else," Rachel predicts.

She's not wrong.

* * *

Rachel can admit the worst part about having such young children is that she's very rarely alone. Even with Quinn holed up in her home office, she usually has Mia asking her to read with her or Matty asking her to _play, Mama, play_.

Emma's the one who rarely asks her for anything, usually choosing Quinn to pose her questions to. Rachel doesn't take it personally, though she is curious about the reasons behind it. She knows she's no less Emma's mother than Quinn is, even though they don't share any DNA.

She thinks it might have something to do with Emma's formative years. Rachel worked a lot the first few years after her birth, and only really slowed down after Mia's arrival. As a result, Emma and Quinn spent a lot of time together, and their bond is... different. She wouldn't call it 'closer,' but Emma would turn to Quinn before she turned to Rachel.

Not that Rachel blames her or anything: she would turn to Quinn first, as well.

Quinn is Quinn, and she's the type of person who will stand and protect; fight and love. Just, all those things that a mother wants for her children.

Sometimes, Rachel gets the impression Quinn only developed into someone as fierce and protective because she _had_ to, in this modern era. In this relationship. Somehow, consciously or not, she took on the heteronormative 'male' role in their marriage, just in case. Society places all these pressures on them, and Quinn did the thing and took self-defence classes and started to stand a little taller.

All to make Rachel feel safer.

Quinn's never believed all she needs is those arms around her and she's the safest she's ever been in her life.

One day, maybe.

Rachel's working on it.

But, really, all she wants right now is a moment alone. Just a moment - a few minutes, tops. But Matty is crawling into her lap, already halfway to sleep, and Mia is reading one of her books to her, while Emma watches _Aladdin_ on the television at a low volume while leaning on her.

Okay.

Maybe she's not so desperate for a moment alone.

When it's time to sleep, Emma helps Rachel get her siblings ready, staying close, as if she can somehow sense what thoughts have been on Rachel's mind. It's something she and Quinn used to wonder about, because their daughter has always had an uncanny ability to pick up on what they're feeling.

Quinn shows up eventually, to kiss the children goodnight, and then she disappears again. Rachel can tell, from the set of her shoulders and intensity in her eyes, that she's inspired.

Rachel finds it ridiculously hot.

Once Emma is safely tucked away in her own bed, her eyes closing and staying that way, Rachel spends a few moments just watching her. She knows soccer is something Emma and Quinn will always share, but the two of them have yet to find their thing.

Well, besides _Disney_ movies, but that's neither here nor there.

They have time.

"Hey."

Rachel startles at the sound of Quinn's voice, her hand flying to heart. "Jesus, Quinn," she murmurs as she moves out of Emma's bedroom and closes the door behind her. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Perhaps," Quinn whispers, her eyes soft. "You okay?"

"Just waiting for my heart to settle, thank you very much."

Quinn kisses her forehead. "No, baby, I'm asking if you're okay," she says. "You looked... thoughtful."

"That's one way of putting it," she says, taking hold of Quinn's left hand and leading them down the hall towards their bedroom. "You looked as if you were on a roll," she comments. "I didn't think I would see you until later."

Quinn squeezes her fingers. "I missed you," she says.

Rachel looks over her shoulder at her. "I always miss you, Quinn Berry-Fabray."

Quinn smiles, soft and mellow. "I've been thinking a lot about high school," she says. "About what a little shit I used to be, and about how lost I was for so many years." She blinks. "Being a teacher now, it just makes me realise just how awful ours were. I mean, I get we were teenagers and we're just going to school to learn useless stuff or whatever, but those are some of the most important years, and our teachers just... left us flailing." She pauses. "Sometimes, even Mr Schue."

Rachel drops her gaze, because her relationship with William Schuester is vastly different to Quinn's. They're all close now, but Quinn holds a certain, unexplained grudge towards the man, even though she still feels as if she owes him something for helping her get her Yale dream to fruition.

Complicated would be Quinn's middle name if she didn't already have one.

"I want to be better," Quinn says as she moves to sit on the edge of their bed. "I don't know how not to be, when I spend every day looking at these young people just trying to make it through the day without losing themselves completely. Like, can you imagine what kind of person I would be if I had someone who actually noticed how much I was struggling?"

Rachel moves to stand in front of her, stepping into the space between her legs. Her hands find Quinn's hair, threading through the soft strands. "I think you and I both know everything that happened was always meant to happen," she says. "You've turned into exactly the person you were always meant to be, regardless of what you think you have power over."

"God really kind of screws us over sometimes, doesn't He?"

Rachel smiles, and then drops her head to kiss the top of Quinn's. "I think everything worked out quite well, don't you think?"

"I have only one complaint," Quinn says, and her voice drops into that low, husky register that immediately makes Rachel's body hum with anticipation. She's already rather keyed up from witnessing Quinn's soccer display earlier.

"What's that?" Rachel asks, already breathless.

"You're wearing too many fucking clothes," Quinn practically growls out, and Rachel very quickly forgets completely about ever wanting a moment alone.

* * *

Beca wonders, Friday morning, if her father and Sheila even know how to ground a teenager. And, frankly, their excuses for extending it are laughable at best. They all know they're trying to get her to stop talking to Quinn and Rachel, but they refuse to say it explicitly.

She makes the mistake of saying, "Why can't you just admit you're actually homophobic?" and she gets told Sheila is picking her up straight after school.

"What happened to finding something productive to do in the afternoons?" she argues back.

"You'll start next week."

Beca won't admit the entire situation makes her that bit angrier because it now means she won't be able to show up for Chloe at the Choir Room. It's not as if she was going to audition or anything ridiculous like that, but she still has the CD, and there's a part of her she can't ignore that desperately wants to see the girl.

David and Sheila want a sullen teenager? Well, they're about to get one.

Beca spends the school day largely alone. She doesn't talk to many people, and she gives off the vibe she doesn't want to be talked to, either. Which is great when she's in Math, because the girl she sits next to is quieter than she is.

Kimmy Jin is maybe her favourite person in this place.

In Economics, she sits next to a girl named Amy, who spends the entire lesson talking about how Australia's economy is far superior to America's, and people keep looking over at her in disbelief. Beca wouldn't even know if it's true or not.

It's during Gym that she maybe makes her second friend, besides Chloe. Her name is Cynthia-Rose, and she seems to hate physical exercise almost as much as Beca. It's what they bond over, as they stand in the back, both of them making sarcastic comments that have them both snickering like the fifteen-year-olds they are.

Beca knows the whole friend thing is true when Cynthia-Rose tells her to call her CR. "It's really too long for everyday speech, man," she says, and Beca has to resist the urge to smile.

Maybe this whole school thing won't be so terrible... which is really a thought that gets shot to hell when Beca actually _sees_ Chloe. It's somewhere between classes, and she's ducking under some jock's flailing arm when a shock of red hair catches her eye and she immediately turns.

She freezes.

Her breath stutters.

Chloe is a cheerleader.

It catches her off guard, which is stupid, because Chloe seems like the type. Friendly and popular, with the kind of presence that demands attention. Beca knows the cheerleaders wear their uniforms only on game days, which means today must be the opening game of the season or whatever.

Chloe is a cheerleader, and a senior, which really means she'll have no time for a nobody sophomore like Beca. She's even surrounded by other cheerleaders, all of them hanging off her every word, and Beca is aware of the looks the boys are throwing her way.

Because Chloe is a cheerleader, and she definitely wears her uniform very well. It suits her, all of it, and Beca is suddenly very aware of how she would never fit into Chloe's world.

Not even a little bit.

Maybe it's for the best, she thinks, as she turns away and heads to her next class. She has her own problems, and developing a crush on someone like Chloe Beale is always going to end in disaster.

She toys with the thought for the remainder of the day, trying to figure out if she would be brave enough to ask Rachel about this if she had her phone. She still has the business card sitting safely in her laptop bag, and she won't admit she might already have the number memorised.

She really needs to find better things to do with her time.

Like, perhaps, actually find some kind of extracurricular before her father and Sheila nag her into the ground. Somehow, they're going to have to survive three more years together, and Beca thinks it might help if they could at least remain talking to one another.

The thing is she's not sporty. She's not particularly good at talking, either. She can take direction just fine, when she wants to. She would jump at anything music-related, and her search of the many noticeboards during lunch gives her several options.

Sort of.

There's the whole Bellas thing Chloe talked about, which seems like a bad idea. There's also the junior choir, which is led by their Music teachers, Mr Purchase and Miss Navarro, that meets every Monday afternoon before the senior choir. It's different to show choir, she learns.

There's also a selection of instrument bands, but she doesn't play an instrument that isn't, well, coming from her computer. She thinks that might need to change, but that's tomorrow's problem.

Then there's the upcoming school production. The flier gives nothing away beyond the following week's first production meeting. Actors and backstage and singers and lighting and music and every other person involved is invited to attend, and Beca thinks she could be interested in the music side of it all. Especially if they're writing their own.

When Sheila arrives to pick her up, Beca has an idea of what her year could turn into.

The Universe would laugh, maybe, if it were so inclined, because Beca Mitchell ends up being way off base.

* * *

Chloe realises, fourteen minutes into Bellas' rehearsals, that Beca isn't coming. It's just a feeling she gets, and the affect on her mood is instant. It's not something she has any control over, and Aubrey shoots her a curious look when she lets out her fifth sigh in as many minutes.

"What is wrong with you?" Aubrey asks when Dr Berry is helping Stacie with reaching a certain note of the song they're rehearsing.

"Nothing," she says. "Just, you know, trying to get used to waking up early for school."

Aubrey doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't ask any further questions.

No, that's left for Dr Berry, who keeps her behind after she's dismissed everyone else. It's no huge ask of her, because she has very little planned between now and the upcoming pep rally.

Dr Berry is kind when she says, "You seem distracted." She smiles a little knowingly. "Dare I ask."

Chloe chuckles softly. "It's nothing, really," she says. "It's actually quite stupid." She smoothes a hand over her hair. "She didn't show."

Dr Berry looks momentarily confused, her face scrunching up, before she remembers. "Ah, yes," she says. "Your potential recruit."

"I ran into her yesterday," Chloe explains, her gaze on her hands in her lap. "I thought I managed to convince her. I mean, we even sang together."

Dr Berry shifts closer. "Is she any good?"

"I think so, yes," she says, and it takes everything she has not to blush.

"Maybe she just doesn't understand what we do here," Dr Berry offers. "Show choir's come a long way since I was in high school, but there's still a lot people assume about it. It's not necessarily considered cool."

Chloe laughs. "Just try to tell Aubrey that," she says. "She'll probably start a campaign to change public opinion on it."

Dr Berry smiles that knowing smile again, and Chloe wants to ask her what she's thinking about. Instead, she asks, "Are you going to be at the game tonight?"

Dr Berry shakes her head. "I'm babysitting tonight," she says. "All our usual babysitters are actually going to be at the game, so I'm saddled with excitable little terrors."

Chloe has questions, of course, but she doesn't feel as comfortable asking as she was with Dr Fabray. She thinks there's a part of her that doesn't want to know, though she can't be sure why.

"We're probably going to lose, anyway," Chloe says, shrugging. "I doubt you'll be missing much."

She nods, as if it's expected. "Well, then, at least not much has changed since I went here."

That makes Chloe do a double-take. "You went here?"

She nods. "Twenty-two long years ago," she says. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

"I wasn't even born."

Dr Berry huffs. "What is it with all you children just reminding us of how old we are? I mean, we get it, okay? We're old."

Chloe giggles. "Well, for whatever age you are, you look good," she says, and then thinks that might be an inappropriate thing to say to her teacher.

Dr Berry doesn't seem remotely scandalised. "Well, thank you, Chloe," she says, smiling. "I've maintained a rather strict daily exercise regimen since I was in high school, though I've grown a little lazy since I gave birth."

Chloe smiles. "And, exactly how long ago was that?"

The woman blushes, and Chloe thinks she looks very pretty like this. "Give or take about a year and a half," she says. "I was hard at it in the beginning, almost desperate to get the baby-fat off." If possible, her blush seems to intensify. "But, since then, my cardio is really just running after a curious toddler and trying to keep up with my soccer-obsessed nine-year-old."

"I was totally obsessed as well when I was that age," Chloe says. "But, it eventually faded."

Dr Berry rolls her eyes. "I doubt this is going away any time soon," she says. "Not when she has at least one parent who's actively fuelling the blazing fire."

Chloe has more questions. She's practically burning with them, but she doesn't know if it's okay to ask them. So, she goes for something relatively safe: "If you went to high school here, that means you were probably here around the same time as Dr Fabray, right? Is that how you know each other?"

Dr Berry looks momentarily startled, and then she lets out a laugh. "You could say that, yes," she says. "We've known each other a very long time. Mr St James even went to school with us for a little while."

"Whoa, it's like a reunion," she says.

"An unwitting one, yes," Dr Berry murmurs. "Mr Schuester was actually our Glee Club director when we were in school."

Chloe's eyes widen. "I can't even imagine him young."

"It's terrifying," she says with her nod. "His oldest son is in college, and I've never felt so old in my life."

Chloe laughs softly, more questions on the tip of her tongue, but Dr Berry suddenly turns away, and reaches for her vibrating phone sitting on several pieces of paper on the piano.

"Sorry," she says, looking apologetic. "We're supposed to get ice cream with the kids before tonight."

Chloe just smiles, giving her the unnecessary silent permission she's seeking.

With another smile, she turns around to answer the phone. "Hey, you," she breathes into the phone, and Chloe uses the opportunity to gather her bag and rise to her feet. "I'm just finishing up, yeah. Did she? Well, tell her I can't wait to see it."

Chloe slips into view at Dr Berry's periphery and does a bit of an awkward wave to get her momentary attention. "Bye," she mouths.

Dr Berry covers the mouthpiece of her phone and says, "Goodbye, Chloe. You have a good weekend, all right?"

"You too, Dr B," she says, and then slips out of the room. She can't claim her mood has shifted, but she's never been more grateful for the weekend. Even if it involves football, cheering, a party she won't be able to avoid, more cheering, all while trying not to think about Beca or Patrick or the fact she hasn't seen or spoken to her parents in more than a week.

Well.

It's really just another weekend in a long line of upcoming weekends.

Chloe spares a thought to her show choir director, wondering when the last time she went for ice cream with her family just for the sake of going for ice cream was.

She can't even remember.

* * *

If there's one thing Quinn doesn't miss about high school, it's the football. She just can't stand the sport, but here she is, more than two decades later, and nothing about her opinion has changed.

She envies Rachel in this moment - she would much rather be at home with the children - but she's the cheerleading coach, which means she's required to make an appearance.

A short one, thankfully, because Mr Schuester seems to take pity on her, and Quinn is confident in leaving Aubrey in charge. She really wants to get home to her family, and she just really wants to get out of this place that holds memories of a time when she wasn't at all true to herself.

Even her skank days were a ploy to hide herself, while still trying to be herself. It seems she overshot quite tremendously, and, while Rachel likes to tease her about it now, they both know just how destructive that time in Quinn's life was.

 _She_ was destructive. Of her self.

Which, Rachel realised rather early was the worst version of herself. Quinn knows she's a work in progress, and they still _Skype_ with their couples' therapist in New York every few weeks.

Rachel has him on speed dial.

Quinn stays just long enough to oversee the halftime show, which is to be followed by the marching band performing their own number.

Quinn definitely doesn't hang around to watch that.

She has a quick word with Aubrey, making sure everything is sorted. She really doesn't want to get some call from some parent or something regarding her cheerleaders.

"Behave at whatever parties you end up going to tonight," Quinn says to both Aubrey and Chloe, laughing at the widening of Aubrey's eyes. "Oh, come on, Miss Posen, I was once your age, you know?"

"A long time ago, though, right?" Chloe says.

"Funny," Quinn says flatly. "Goodnight, ladies. Don't go too hard tonight; practice is at seven and I will make you run, whether or not you have a hangover."

Quinn can tell they believe her, and she shoots them one more smile before spinning on her heel and leaving the stadium, her focus on getting home as painlessly as possible.

She fails.

Jesse catches her on her way out, and she has to force herself not to groan in frustration. "Where are you headed?" he asks, falling into step beside her.

"Home," she answers simply.

"Ah," he says with a nod. "So, I mean, you totally work here, which is cool."

She raises her eyebrows, because she has no idea where he's going with this.

"Kind of funny, though, isn't it?"

"How so?"

"You're supposed to be some Yale graduate or whatever, and Rachel's some big shot Broadway star, while I barely got through high school, and yet we all ended up here."

Quinn stops walking, not liking what he's implying. "And, where exactly is here, St James?"

He almost trips over himself to come to a halt. "Here," he says; "back at McKinley."

Quinn steps into his space. "Tell me, Jesse, are you here by choice?"

"What?" he sputters.

"Are you here by choice?" she asks. "Did you _choose_ to come and work here? Could you work anywhere else? Have you spent the last fifteen years lecturing budding authors in an Ivy League lecture theatre? Have you managed to rake in five Tonies in your career? Can you realistically sit at home for the rest of your life and want for nothing?" She gets right up close to his face. "We are not the same," she says; "and I would thank you not to keep imagining we are."

Jesse puffs out a breath when she steps back. "Jesus," he says. "I almost forgot how terrifying you are."

Quinn nods once, and then turns to continue her walk.

He follows. "Do you want to, maybe, get a drink or something?"

She stops again and sends him an incredulous look. "Are you serious?"

He nods. "Of course," he says.

"Jesse," she says, trying for patience. "You do know I'm married, don't you?"

His eyes widen. "You are?"

She lets out a laugh. "How is it possible you don't know that?" she asks. "Seriously."

Jesse still looks stumped.

Quinn shakes her head. "Wow," she says. "Just, wow."

This time, when she walks away, he doesn't follow. She can't wait to get home to tell Rachel, but her impatience wins out, which is why she calls her wife as soon as she's in the car.

"I was just about to call you," Rachel answers on the second ring, and she sounds oddly breathless.

Quinn blinks, her hands freezing on their way to shift gears. "What's wrong?"

"Are you still at school?"

"I am, yes," she says. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really," she says. "I'm just missing you."

"Are the kids driving you crazy?" she asks, finally shifting her car into reverse and pulling out of her spot. "It's okay; you can tell me."

Rachel laughs. "I love them, I do, and I love spending time with them, but, God, it's exhausting." She puffs out a breath. "Baby, why did we think having three of them was a good idea?"

"Uh, the third one was all you," she says. "I'm the one who thought it was a bad idea to be outnumbered."

Rachel hums. "I wanted to be pregnant," she says unnecessarily. "I wanted to give birth to one of our babies."

"And now we have to think about a third college fund," Quinn says, sounding amused. "So, thank you."

"You love him."

"When he's not getting in the way of my once daily sex-life, yes, I do love him," she says.

"If you bring me donut holes, you might actually get laid tonight," Rachel says. "I have a craving."

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

Rachel laughs loudly, and then abruptly stops. "Oh, sorry, Sweetheart," she says to someone else; "watch your movie, okay?"

Quinn can't hold back her laughter when Rachel is back.

"I think your daughter is going to inherit your HBIC attitude," Rachel says. "I think there'll come a time when I'll fear for anyone faced with Emma's stare. It's almost as good as yours, and she's only nine."

"Such promise," Quinn muses.

Rachel hums. "You're the one who called," she says, as if she's just remembering. "Why? Is everything okay?"

When Quinn tells her about Jesse, the two of them spend the next few minutes laughing uncontrollably that Rachel is even forced to leave the room before Emma laser-eyes her to death.

"Seriously," Rachel says through her laughter. "How does he not know?"

Quinn has no answer for her and, when she gets home almost fifteen minutes later, Jesse is the furthest thing from her mind.

"You promised me sex," Quinn says as they stand in the entrance hall.

"Where are my donuts?" Rachel asks, looking behind Quinn, where the blonde's hands are hidden.

"Sex first," Quinn says. "And after." She blinks. "Fuck. During."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Whipped cream?"

Quinn nods. "Fuck. Yes."

She repeats those words countless times in the next few hours.

* * *

"Coach has a hickey on her neck," Isabella says.

"And her collarbone," Aubrey adds.

"I think there's one on her thigh," Sadie says from somewhere behind them, and Chloe looks over her shoulder at the girl. "What?" she asks innocently. "There is."

"God, I miss sex," Isabella says, clearly indicating that things are rough with her boyfriend again. "I mean, our coach is totally getting more action than me, and you and you and you combined. How sad is that?"

Chloe turns her attention back to Dr Fabray, who is doing crunches in the corner, long after she's dismissed them from their practice ten minutes early. She's really quite stunning, physically toned with the kind of face that Chloe imagines is a gift from God.

Chloe doesn't have to be confused about her sexuality to be able to admit that Quinn Fabray is a beautiful woman.

"I mean, if I were her husband, I probably wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her, either," Sadie says. "She's a fucking goddess."

Chloe shifts uncomfortably, though she can't be sure why. They always talk about their teachers, so she can't be sure why this is affecting her as much as it is.

Chloe sits up straight, stretching her calves. Her eyes drift towards Dr Fabray again, and she's back on her feet, a bottle of water in one hand and her phone in the other. The smile on her face looks like the one she smiles at Mia, and Chloe feels another pang in her chest, this time linked to her own parents.

"Bye, girls," Dr Fabray suddenly calls out, waving a hand as she exits the gym. "Have a good weekend."

Chloe watches her disappear, feeling weirdly detached from everything going on around her. From here, she's going straight home to recover from this session, and from the party Aubrey dragged her to last night.

She's exhausted.

"Chlo," Aubrey says, softly kicking at her shin to get her attention. "Want to go to the Lima Bean? Bell wants to bitch about Vincent."

Chloe opens her mouth to respond, only to have it turn into a yawn, drawing a laugh from the girls around her. "It's either I need the caffeine or I need a nap," she says, yawning again. "I think I'm going to skip today, guys."

Aubrey gives her a curious look. "Are you sure?"

Chloe nods, already getting to her feet. "Yeah," she says. "I'll see you guys on Monday, okay?" She's already walking away before any of them can reply, her body moving towards some destination she becomes aware of only when she sees Dr Fabray still in the parking lot.

Chloe is walking towards her before she can spend too long thinking about it. Her brain isn't entirely aware of anything until she's standing right in front of the woman and saying, "I kissed a boy last night."

Dr Fabray looks suitably caught off guard, but it's too late for Chloe to take it back. "Okay," she says. "Um."

"His name is Tom, and he's been slowly pursuing me all semester," she explains, and neither of them mentions that 'all semester' definitely hasn't been a long time at all. "I thought, if I could just, you know, then I wouldn't - " she stops abruptly.

Dr Fabray nods, as if she understands. Chloe thinks she does. "And do you?" she asks. "Are you?"

"I - I think so," Chloe admits, and then immediately curls into herself, feeling the weight of her non-admission settle heavily on her entire existence. "But, I can't be. I can't."

"Chloe," Dr Fabray soothes. "Everything is going to be okay."

"No, it's not," she says, and she's suddenly so sure of it, because how can it ever be? She doesn't need this. She didn't ask for this. God, this is the absolute last thing her family needs.

"I know it's scary," Dr Fabray starts, and Chloe reacts.

"No, you don't!" she shouts, snapping harshly. "How could you possibly know? I don't need this right now, okay? It's the absolutely last thing that needs to be happening. Oh, my God. Like, why? This year has been hard enough without adding on all of this."

"Chloe," she tries.

Chloe isn't having any of it, and she steps back once, twice, and then turns and dashes to her car, just needing to get away.

Dr Fabray doesn't try to come after her, but Chloe catches her in her rearview mirror when she's pulling out of the parking lot, still just standing there, watching intently, concerned understanding all over her face.

* * *

Rachel can tell Quinn is thinking hard about something from the moment she sees her arrive at the soccer field. It's something serious, if the furrow in her brow is anything to go on, and she refrains from asking until the moment Quinn leans in close to her and says, "I think I had a student just come out to me."

Rachel blinks, taking in the words, and trying to come up with a response. "You think?" she asks, absently playing with Matty's fingers as he dances around her legs.

Quinn glances over her shoulder. "Where's Beca?"

Rachel gestures to their far left, where Beca is dutifully sitting between her father and the woman who isn't her mother. She looks positively miserable, her body tense as she tries to make herself as small as possible, so as not to touch the people either side of her.

"Fuck," Quinn murmurs under her breath.

Rachel hums in agreement, and then turns to her right when Mia taps her arm. "What's up, baby?"

"Juice, please," Mia says, sitting straighter and offering her widest smile.

Quinn steals Matty's attention from her, so she can retrieve a bottle from the cooler. It's taken them a while to find this kind of rhythm, but she's so relieved they're figuring out this whole being a parent thing.

This being mothers thing.

Once Mia is settled, Rachel looks at Quinn, who is pulling funny faces and getting a chorus of sweet, baby giggles out of a delighted Matty. She watches them for a moment, her heart warming at the sight.

"Would you hate me if I said I want another one?" Rachel finds herself asking before she can censor her words.

Quinn freezes, her eyes wide as she looks at Rachel. "You're joking, right?" she says. "Rach, we're forty."

Rachel blinks. "Is age the only reason you would say no?" she asks.

Quinn looks bewildered. "Are you actually being serious? Because, I'm pretty sure you're the one who was complaining about how many we already have just last night."

Rachel smiles indulgently. "But look at how cute they are," she says.

"And, I'm not about to dispute that," she says. "But, I mean, pandas are cute, too, and you don't see us getting one of those."

"We can," she says.

Quinn rolls her eyes, and then drops her sunglasses over her eyes. Her wife can be ridiculous, sometimes. "I'm trying to tell you about the student who maybe came out to me."

"You're the one who asked about Beca."

"Well, you're the one who started on about having more babies."

"We should adopt Beca."

Quinn looks at her incredulously. "Have you gone insane?" she asks, and then looks down at Matty. "Matty, bud, has Mama gone insane? Yes, she has." She looks at Rachel. "I love you, but please can you tone down the crazy. We're in public."

Rachel just laughs, absently patting Quinn's leg. "Tell me about your student."

Quinn hums. "She's the one I told you about in the beginning, remember? The one I noticed?"

Rachel nods, recalling the conversation.

"She's been struggling with it, and some other things, and I think the truth is hitting her now." She presses her lips together. "She's not handling it well."

"Your kind of not well?"

Quinn hesitates. "God, I hope not," she says. "I wouldn't even know how to deal with that."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure," she admits, lifting Matty into her lap when he raises his arms and says, "Up." She holds him against her chest for a moment, but he squirms to be released, and then happily settles in her lap and plays with her hair.

"Are you going to try to talk to her on Monday?" Rachel asks, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of her wife and son. It's all just too adorable to ignore.

"I'm trying to think about it in terms of what I would want," Quinn says; "and I wouldn't want my teacher to approach me about it."

"Perhaps it's best to wait, yes," Rachel agrees. "Let her come to you."

Quinn hums. "I do want to make sure she knows she _can_ come to me," she says. "I just - I don't know how to do that without... scaring her off, I guess."

"You'll figure it out," Rachel says. "You always do."

Quinn smiles softly, kissing Matty's head instead of Rachel's lips. She leans forward to peek at Mia, who is quietly sipping her juice and watching her big sister very intently. "Princess Mia," Quinn calls, getting her attention. "A little birdie told me today is your Saturday. What do you want to do?"

"Pizza," Mia immediately says.

"Okay," Quinn agrees with little hesitance, which makes Rachel smile. Quinn doesn't normally indulge, but Saturday is considered a Cheat Day whenever their children have their dedicated days.

It's something they started doing when Emma was Mia's age. They would spend a day, once a month, doing whatever she wanted to do - within reason, of course. Now, Mia has her own day once a month, and, when Matty is old enough, he'll get one too.

"What about after pizza?" Quinn asks.

"Fishies."

Quinn blinks, and then looks at Rachel. "Aquarium?"

Rachel nods.

Quinn winces. The closest aquarium worth visiting is in Columbus, which is two hours away.

Rachel touches her shoulder. "Maybe we can make a day of it," she offers. "There's a store I want to visit for Dad, anyway." She pauses. "Also, Dr Murphy asked us to visit that facility."

Quinn seems to think about it, and then nods. "Okay," she says, checking the time on her watch. "We can get pizza for lunch straight from here, and then head home so we can get ready and eat. Then, we'll head for the fishies and the store and the facility, have dinner in the city, and then come home." Her brow furrows. "Unless you're thinking about a sleepover."

Rachel shakes her head. "That is way too much work with three kids."

Quinn gives her an incredulous look, and then shakes her head. "Says the woman who wants another one."

* * *

Beca feels distinctly envious of the ease at which Quinn and Rachel exist in their little bubble of family. She knows Saturdays are probably going to be the only day she'll be coming to the soccer field, but it isn't as if she can even talk to either of them with her father sitting beside her, an invisible leash existing between them.

It's... whatever.

Usually, after practice, Quinn hangs around to work on a few things with Emma, but today is different, apparently. The little family packs up immediately, and Beca, her father, Sheila and Aaron end up walking behind them as they head towards the parking lot.

Beca hears Quinn say, "Are you ready for the fishies?" and then lifts Mia right off her feet and hangs her upside down as they walk. Mia squeals in excitement, and Beca _feels_ it. Deep, deep down.

"Will we be able to practice later?" Emma asks, tugging on Quinn's t-shirt.

"If you're not too tired," Quinn assures her, and her smile is a little too knowing. "We'll take your ball with and see if we can sneak some time, okay?"

Emma nods, smiling widely, and then skips closer to Rachel, who has the cooler over one shoulder and Matty propped on her other hip.

Beca aches.

Her own family isn't even talking. Even Aaron is quiet, looking thoughtful. Beca wonders what he's thinking about right until the moment he asks, "Are you not letting me practice with Emma because she has two moms?"

Beca almost trips over herself, Sheila tuts and her father actually chokes on air. Beca resists the urge to laugh, and she catches the sight of Quinn, who looks back at them, and she's clearly amused, as if she's heard.

Beca's day just got a whole lot better.

"Yeah, Sheila," she says, sarcasm lacing her tone. "Are you not letting Aaron practice with Emma because she has two moms?"

"Beca," her father says.

"What?" she asks, all innocence. "I'm curious to know, as well."

Sheila glares at her, and then turns to Aaron. "Honey, I already told you why."

"No, you didn't," he argues, frowning heavily. "You never tell me why, but you always say no. I want to know why. She's good at soccer. She's better than me, and I want to get as good. Why won't you let me?"

Sheila just shakes her head. "I'm done talking about this with you, Aaron," she says dismissively.

Aaron opens his mouth to keep arguing, but their father finally speaks up.

"That's enough, Aaron," he says. "Listen to your mother."

Beca rolls her eyes, and takes out her phone. Her demon guardians finally gave it back to her last night, and she's finally been able to reply to the three texts Chloe sent her over the week.

She's still waiting for a response.

In the parking lot, Beca slows her pace, so she can watch Quinn and Rachel. They separate at some point, having come in two cars, and Beca watches as they do a quick 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' to make some kind of decision.

Rachel laughs when her Paper covers Quinn's Rock. Quinn shakes her head, looking amused, and then she takes Matty from Rachel, holding him in one arm and Mia in the other.

"Say bye to Mama," Quinn says, and Beca smiles at their chorused farewell.

Rachel slips her hand into Emma's, and looks at Quinn. "Please don't break all our hearts and get pizzas with just vegetables."

"Vegetables are important, Rachel."

"So is our children's happiness."

Quinn starts to walk away, and Beca swears she hears her say, "Matty, not only is your Mama insane, but she's also a drama queen."

Beca can't stop her smile if she tries, and she totally waves back when Quinn shouts a goodbye at her. She then goes on to ignore Sheila, who shoots a pointed look at her father.

If he says anything, Beca doesn't hear him, because her phone suddenly buzzes and Chloe's name pops up. Her heart leaps into her throat, and her breath catches.

Whoa.

Okay.

Her phone buzzes again, and then again, and Beca closes her eyes to calm herself before a stupid smile threatens to take over her face.

She knows she can't open the texts yet. No ways. She's hopeless when it comes to romance, but even she knows that she has to wait a little while, at least. Can't be too eager.

Beca lasts only until they get home and she can be alone in her bedroom. She throws herself onto her bed, slows her breathing, and then reads Chloe's texts.

Chloe: _And she lives... I see you escaped your grounding ;)_

 **Chloe** : _Hello, Becca, how are you? Are you having a good weekend?_

 **Chloe** : _Do you have any music recommendations to make a person feel better?_

Beca swallows, finding it odd that she can feel some sort of melancholy coming through text. For some reason, she imagined Chloe would be more excitable than this over text.

Well.

 **Beca** : _Just barely with my life. (Why do I get the feeling you're never going to let me live this down?)_

 **Beca** : _It's actually Beca. One 'C.' I would say I'm fine, but I don't want to lie to you. How are you? I sincerely hope you're having a better weekend than I am, though it does seem to be looking up now._

 **Beca** : _Lots. Do you have_ Spotify _? (Also, if you want to talk about whatever, you totally can.)_

She doesn't expect the anxiety. It creeps up on her and takes hold of her head and heart, and all she can do is lie there and wonder what Chloe is doing right now. Will she reply soon? Will Beca have to wait forever? God, she doesn't think she would handle having to wait any longer than -

Her phone buzzes. Once, twice.

A third time.

Beca sucks in a breath.

Okay.

They're doing this. They're having a conversation.

 **Chloe** : _I'm never going to let you live this down. I have a good memory, and I'll be reminding you of this when we're old and grey :)_

 **Chloe** : _One 'C,' got it ;) I would say I'm fine, but I don't want to lie to you either. Care to share why your weekend is looking up?_

 **Chloe** : _Do I have_ Spotify _? What am I? A person that actually buys music? :/ I do, by the way. Tell me what to do. (I don't think I'm ready yet, but thank you.)_

Beca reads the messages twice, flushing at the idea of knowing Chloe at all when they're old and grey. The idea makes her feel warm.

 _Chloe_ makes her feel warm.

Taking a deep breath, Beca starts to reply, settling in to give and take what she's not sure she wants or has.

* * *

Rachel can't quite explain what she feels when Quinn pulls into the parking lot of the facility LeRoy's doctor recommended. Well, they actually call it a nursing home. One of the best in the State.

At the moment, they've employed home care, with nursing staff on duty twenty-four hours a day, switching from day and night shifts. It's working out well, but Rachel knows it's taking its toll on Hiram.

Rachel can't realistically say it would be better separating them. She and Quinn would happily pay for all the care LeRoy will need, but she gets the feeling the medical bills are affecting Hiram, as well.

Everything is affecting him.

It's affecting Rachel.

Quinn taps her knee, and she looks over at her, trying to smile in reassurance at the concern on Quinn's face. "We don't have to do this," she offers.

Rachel loves her. She loves her so much. "It's okay," she says. "I just - I don't know if I could do this to him."

Quinn takes hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "Baby, you wouldn't be doing anything to him," she says. "It would be _for_ him."

Rachel audibly swallows. "We should take a look," she says, starting to get out of the car.

Quinn follows.

They have a bit of a system now, particularly when they use Quinn's car. Rachel loosens Matty from his car seat and holds him on her hip, slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder. He might be due a change in the next half-hour. Quinn gets Emma and Mia safely out as well. Mia is just big enough no longer to need her own car seat, so Quinn's job is easier (when they're both awake, at least.)

"Bring your ball," Quinn tells Emma, and then the five of them are heading inside.

Rachel called ahead, so there's already a woman waiting to meet them. She's kind with a nice smile, and there's a level of understanding in her eyes.

She shows them around the main building, and then carefully says, "We have some of the best trained carers here," when they reach what looks like the recreation room. "I'm sure you have some more questions. If you're comfortable, you can leave your children playing in here and we can talk in my office."

Emma runs towards the art supplies before Quinn or Rachel can even say anything, but Mia lingers. Quinn places a hand in her shoulder. "Go on, Princess," she says quietly. "We'll be right back, okay? Make sure your sister behaves."

Mia nods, solemn, and then walks towards Emma with purpose.

Rachel holds onto Matty, and Quinn must realise she needs him. She places a hand on her lower back and says, "Meg, lead the way."

Meg shows them what the rooms look like, and the kind of perks a nursing home has that home care doesn't. The rooms are luxurious, and Meg assures them that you definitely get what you pay for. They tour more of the facilities on offer and even look in at a group therapy session, before Meg takes them to her office.

Rachel is still unsure, and she's sure Meg can tell. It all seems so final. As if, she'll just be dropping off her father here and somehow just washing her hands of him. The idea unsettles her. It makes her feel like a monster.

"Do you have any questions?" Meg asks, and Rachel has plenty. The woman is more patient than Quinn is, which is why Quinn eventually steals Matty from Rachel's lap and leaves the office.

Meg glances at the door once she's gone, and then says, "I'm not going to be the one to be able to convince you. Only he is."

Rachel blinks, caught off guard.

"I could wax poetic about this place until I'm blue in the face, but the only person who could ever make this decision for you is your father." Meg sighs. "There will come a time when it will be too difficult; when you'll realise it's something you need help with. I sincerely hope that moment doesn't come when it's cost you more than you can replace."

Rachel leaves her office feeling overwhelmed and a little lost. Meg accompanies her to the front, and the two of them pause in the front foyer and look out onto the lawn out back where Quinn is kicking the ball around with their children.

Rachel watches, just so in love.

Matty chases after the ball as Emma dribbles it at her feet, and Mia waits with Quinn, running circles around her. Emma kicks the ball their way, eventually, and Matty goes running. Mia's kick back is wildly skew and Emma laughs. Quinn just bends to coach Mia through the actions, and, when Emma kicks the ball back, Mia stops it, sets herself, and then kicks it straight back to Emma.

Mia squeals, Quinn high-fives her, and Matty falls over while Emma claps her hands.

Love.

Rachel is so, so in love.

"You have a lovely family," Meg says.

Rachel sighs dreamily. "Thank you," she says, because, yes, she definitely does.

* * *

Chloe feels... giddy.

That's really the only way to explain it. It's been a feeling that's settled into her bones since she received that first reply from Beca, and seems to have escalated to dangerous levels. It's ridiculous.

They're just talking. About books and music and Cherry Cola and whether or not frozen pizza still counts as part of the 'even bad pizza is good pizza' belief.

So, when Chloe steps into school on Monday morning, there's a part of her that just wants to see Beca. Just to make sure she hasn't been imagining everything.

But, well, the second she walks into school, she also has to deal with what happened on Saturday with Dr Fabray. She's been able to forget for a little while - out of sight, out of mind - but now she's almost forced to remember.

She has to see Dr Fabray in fourth period.

Before then, though, she has to deal with Aubrey, who keeps looking at her as if she has no idea who she is. (Chloe almost tells her to get in line, but she holds her tongue.) She's going through something, and she really doesn't need Aubrey looking at her with such disapproval and judgment. She suspects it's all going to reach a head at some point - Chloe is being unintentionally moody and difficult to reach - so she knows to expect _something_.

Chloe almost skips English, but that would be childish, and she doesn't want Dr Fabray to think there's anything actually wrong. She's fine. She just kind of had a bit of a panic attack, because, apparently, boys like Tom don't do it for her anymore.

If they ever did.

Dr Fabray is standing behind her desk when Chloe arrives, but she barely looks up, her focus rather on the notes in front of her. Of course, Chloe noticed how beautiful the woman is the first time she saw her, but getting to know her has elevated her to a higher level.

And, now, well, she's wearing this sleeveless blouse and tailored black pants and, whoa, Dr Fabray has tattoos. A lot of them. Along her upper arm, vines creeping under her blouse and gardenias blooming across her skin.

Just, whoa.

Chloe's not the only one staring, and she knows she should stop, but she can't. Her eyes are greedy as she takes in all she can. There's a rather large cross on display, numbers embedded in them to indicate their verse, and a shelf of books with names, and Chloe can't help wondering who they are.

Well, she recognises Emma and Amelia as names of at least two of her children, but the rest leave her stumped. Is Matthew her husband? That doesn't feel right. In fact, it feels terribly wrong, as if it won't ever fit, and she can't quite figure out why that is.

Well, she doesn't until she sees it.

Chloe isn't sure what to make of it at first, and she's not sure she should be jumping to conclusions. But, there's a moment when Dr Fabray leans over to help a student just to Chloe's left, and her arm extends as she points at something in the notes.

It's when Chloe sees it.

It's small, barely there, and easily missable if Chloe wasn't looking as hard as she was.

Chloe's eyes zero in on it, pinging on the small rainbow tattoo, and she suddenly just knows.

Oh.

Dr Fabray notices her looking, and the woman actually winks at her.

She winks.

Chloe puffs out a breath.

 _Oh_ , all right.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN** : Admittedly, I'm not much of an "Author's Note" person, but I have a little something to say. The past few weeks have been especially devastating and eye-opening, and I felt the need to explain why I felt it would be in poor taste to update last week. From my own viewpoint, at least. Also as a person who is not from the US, though I'm aware that means very little, because it truly is a problem that exists in many places all over the world.

I've spent a lot of time navigating my own racial climate, given I'm considered mixed both racially and religiously, sometimes desperate to find a place to belong, but not quite fitting on either end of the spectrum. I've spent a lot of my life growing up in a post-Apartheid South Africa, and, while the segregation is lawfully over; the effects are still lingering more than two decades later, which, like many places in the world, has created something of a systemic problem. We've had an endless number of our protests here, both in past history and quite recently as part of a Fees Must Fall movement, which fights for equality in all walks of life. I am aware of the power of protest, as it's taken endless protesting and freedom fighting to ensure my existence wasn't still considered illegal.

Which is why, last week Tuesday, when I was getting ready to post my update, I went onto Twitter (I'm still not good at the whole social media thing, both as FF19 and as myself), and the timeline was alarming, to say the least. Obviously, I've been following the news as much as I can, but I try to limit my exposure, because it has an adverse affect on me. But, I was on Twitter, and I started thinking about where a tweet about my updated story would fit into this narrative - this very important time in history - and ultimately decided it wouldn't. During the pandemic - which is still ongoing, and we cannot afford to forget that - it felt right to provide something of a distraction to what was happening, but to post something of a distraction during this ongoing movement struck me as something I just didn't want to do. So I didn't.

This week, I can't say I feel much different, but I can't shake the budding hope that this moment in time will be different. Change _is_ possible. There is no more silence. The fire is burning. Eyes are opening. The world is watching. People are waking up and realising it's so much more than just what it appears to be. Nothing can be taken at face value, and people are being called out. It's more than racism or sexism or homophobia or transphobia. It's so much more than we could ever think it is, and maybe this year will have something positive to mark down in history.

Because, and I think I speak for a few, 2020 has sucked. I won't even lie, because it really, really has. And, after a 2019 that was horrific for me, personally, I was kind of hoping for a better year. Best laid plans, huh? I know it doesn't mean a lot, but I do want to thank everyone for the support I've received. Here, and on Twitter and tumblr. I don't think I say it enough, but I am thankful for everyone who takes the time to read my work, like and review and just talk about, really. It makes it feel as if it means something, and I don't think I could describe that feeling. Just know I appreciate it, and I hope you're all well and safe and healthy and maybe as happy as you can be. If not - and I know it isn't comparable - I hope my words help get you somewhere close.

Okay, that's more than enough for now. Onwards with the story. (And, just as a side note, I am still committed to writing Faberry. They are Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry, and they'll always be.)

* * *

**V**

Rachel tries not to think too hard about how weird it is that Beca isn't around for soccer practice on Monday afternoon. It's not as if Beca is a large presence, demanding of attention - in fact, Rachel would wager the teenager would prefer being invisible - but Rachel misses her.

And her music.

Soccer is boring, and Quinn is far too invested in it. Rachel rues the day she allowed her wife to buy Emma her first soccer ball all those years ago, but not really, because it obviously makes both of them very happy.

Today, though, she's definitely not paying attention. There's no Beca to talk to, sure, but there's also Quinn's arms. Like, her forearms and biceps are so deliciously on full display, her tailored trousers showing off the straight lines and muscles of her legs, highlighting her gorgeous, enviable ass. It's obvious she does squats.

Quinn isn't helping anyone as she patrols the sidelines, sunglasses on and one hand tucked in a pocket. She looks very New York, Upper East Side Mom, and Rachel can do no more than watch her wife draw the envious gazes of nearly everyone in attendance.

Quinn doesn't even look real. Rachel knows, because she's spent many, many hours of her life merely watching Quinn, and she looks unreal in this moment. It's when she turns a certain way, left arm on full display and head tilted slightly upwards that Rachel knows she needs to snap a picture. Quinn looks as if she's posing for a photo shoot, all sharp angles and perfect lighting, and Rachel doesn't know how any of her students managed to concentrate on anything in class today when Quinn walked in looking like that.

Just the tattoos are enough to make Rachel's mouth water.

She's figured out she's not the only one. The women around her generally don't like them because of their sexuality, but Rachel knows Quinn enjoys pissing them off by being so stunning. She's easily the fittest mom out here, and they all know it.

They hate her for it, and Quinn doesn't give a shit.

Sometimes, Rachel does. She can't help it. It's always been a bit of a contradiction with her, given she's usually cared what people think, but also is content to do whatever the hell she wants. It's not something that's changed with age.

What has changed is that she's more worried about Quinn, because sometimes Quinn's aloofness can get her in trouble. It's been known to happen.

Like now.

"Will you please tell her to sit down?" a woman hisses at Rachel from her right side, and she startles. "We get it. She knows soccer, but, goodness, she's starting to give me a headache with all the pacing."

Rachel watches the woman carefully. "By all means, you're free to tell her yourself," she says, smiling innocently.

The woman huffs, clearly annoyed, and then resumes reading the novel in her hands.

Rachel catches sight of the title and can't stop from smiling to herself. "Are you enjoying it?" she finds herself asking.

The woman still looks annoyed when she looks up again. "Excuse me?"

"Your novel," she says, pointing at the book. "That's her second one, isn't it?"

The woman's brow furrows for a moment, and then she nods. "It's good," she says. "I think it's better than her first, actually, which was something scandalous to say at my book club."

Rachel manages a smile. "I think I agree with you," she says, turning her body slightly, showing interest. "Her debut was amazing, of course, but I think she really found her voice with the second one."

The woman nods eagerly. "I've been hearing rumours they're planning on making a movie."

"I heard that, too," she says, enjoying herself a little too much. "Do you think it's true?"

She looks positively delighted, diving into conversation about the story and potential movie stars who could play the characters, and it's as if she forgets she's talking to Rachel. The conversation does slow when Quinn moves to sit beside Rachel, smiling politely at the woman.

"Hey," Rachel says. "Maria, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is Maria Giorgi, Christina's mother. We were just talking about Lucy Quinn's latest novel."

Quinn blinks, and then smiles. "My namesake, huh? Which novel is this?"

"The Safety Dance."

Quinn nods. "Not my favourite, personally," she says. "Is that the one you're reading now, Maria?"

Maria seems hesitant, as if being faced with the both of them isn't something she's prepared to see through.

Quinn waits, patient. They encounter all sorts, and Maria doesn't seem as against them as some of the other parents. With a bit of time, Rachel thinks they can both win her over.

Maria seems to make a decision then, carefully showing Quinn the cover of her book. "This is actually her second one, not Safety Dance. It's the third time I'm reading it," she confesses.

Quinn smiles wider, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I swear, I've read it so many times, I feel as if I wrote it myself."

* * *

It's strange, being at school late on a Monday, and Beca would revel in it if it didn't mean she was missing out on getting to talk to Rachel and Quinn.

Well.

Beca spends her afternoon in rehearsals with the junior choir to pass the time. When she asks about it, Mr St James invites her to sit in and see if it's something that interests her. It's merely singing while standing relatively still, and she thinks she could handle it. It's one afternoon a week, which isn't a big deal.

She still thinks she's going to have to find something else, though.

After a quick debate with herself, she decides on the musical. It seems as if it'll be time-consuming enough to keep her out of the house for large amounts of time. The first meeting is on Thursday, so she just needs to make it until then.

Until then.

Beca and Chloe maintain their text conversation all day, and Beca holes herself in her bedroom when Sheila finally picks her up from school, Aaron covered in grass and sweat in the backseat. She emerges only for dinner and listens to Aaron talk about school and soccer practice, and then goes back upstairs.

Tuesday is no different, really.

Well, it starts off that way... but it definitely doesn't end the same.

Beca's not entirely sure how it happens, but she ends up under the bleachers at the football pitch after school lets out. She finds the spot by mistake, just needing to take a walk and clear her head, and she stumbles onto a pretty neat spot that has actual seating.

At first, she worries she's encroaching on someone's spot, but there doesn't seem to be anyone in sight, so she makes herself comfortable, slips on her headphones and decides to work on her Math homework.

Beca doesn't notice them immediately.

In fact, she doesn't notice _them_ at all. Rather, between songs, when the rest of the world manages to filter in, she hears voices, and she distinctly hears the word 'Chloe,' which is why she lifts her head at all. Her heart leaps, wondering if she's going to catch a sight of the redhead, but Chloe isn't in sight when Beca peeks through one of the openings in the bleachers.

Instead, there's a group of three cheerleaders huddled together, and they're talking _about_ a Chloe. Two are blonde, and the third one has jet black hair. Beca has seen them around, of course. She thinks one of the blonde ones is even supposed to be the head cheerleader, but they're definitely the type of girls Beca largely avoids.

But, they're talking about a Chloe, so Beca hates them on sight.

"I just don't know what's going on with her," the taller blonde says. "It's like she just checks out sometimes."

Black-Hair nods along. "She's been really distant lately," she says. "Never wants to hang out with us anymore. Do you know if something happened?"

"Maybe something happened with Tom, and she just doesn't want to tell us," the shorter blonde offers, and Beca feels something awful twist in her chest at the mention of this Tom person.

"No," the tall blonde says. "It started long before that. Like, the first day of school, basically." She shakes her head. "I don't know what it is, but something's definitely up. I mean, she took my spot as Captain of the Bellas, and Chloe wouldn't ever do that unless something's wrong." Her face twists. "I don't even know why Dr B thinks she would make a better Captain, anyway. I'm already Cheerios Captain. I know how to lead, and she very obviously doesn't."

Beca bristles in her seat, silently huffing at the audacity of this girl to say that about Chloe. Chloe is great. She's awesome. She'd totally make an awesome leader.

It gets worse, though, and Tall-Blonde continues to rant while the other two girls say nothing. Beca wonders if these people _are_ actually Chloe's friends, because Chloe definitely deserves more than this. She doesn't even know if she should or could tell Chloe about this. Would the redhead even believe her? Would Beca, if the roles were reversed?

Beca breathes out, feeling unsure and conflicted, and she leans back. Which is really her demise, because her textbook slips from her lap and hits the ground with a hard thud.

Everyone freezes.

Beca wishes the ground would open up and just swallow her whole. She needs to disappear, right now, because she can hear footsteps and someone asking, "Did you hear that?" and "There's somebody in there."

Beca holds her breath as the three cheerleaders round the edge of the bleachers, and see her just sitting there, eyes a little wide and heart beating a little too fast.

"Who are you?" Black-Hair asks, and she sounds oddly harsh. "What are you doing here? Are you eavesdropping on us?"

Beca looks affronted. "Dude," she says. "I don't know if you noticed, but I was sitting here long before you three showed up."

Black-Hair steps forward. "Watch it, Midget."

Beca rolls her eyes. "Wow," she says. "Original."

Tall-Blonde places a hand on Black-Hair's arm, calming her, and Beca is relieved for all of four seconds before she says, "Regardless, you were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

Beca doesn't respond. She rather just retrieves her textbook from the floor, and tries to think of a way to get them to leave her alone. She thinks she could just ignore them, but even she's not naïve enough to think that'll go down well - or be remotely successful.

"What did you hear?" Tall-Blonde asks. Well, she demands it, really, and Beca just glares at her, because, seriously, like she's going to answer that ridiculous question.

"Answer her," Black-Hair says, and her tone of voice prompts Beca to get to her feet, just because she doesn't want to be the only one seated for this confrontation.

Beca's starting to hate Tuesdays.

"What did you hear?" Tall-Blonde asks again, and there's a hint of fear in her eyes, as if she's honestly worried what Beca heard is going to make it out, somehow.

Make it back to Chloe.

"You know we can make your life Hell," Black-Hair says when Beca remains silent, and it's menacing enough to give Beca pause.

Still, Beca almost laughs, because her life is already some kind of Hell.

Black-Hair's eyes narrow and she steps forward, intending to intimidate Beca with her height and proximity. "Do you think this is funny?"

Beca almost says yes, but, then, well, there's another voice.

"What's going on here?"

Beca jumps in surprise, and her eyes widen as Quinn strides towards them. Quinn. What on Earth is _Quinn_ doing here?

All three girls in front of Beca freeze, and Beca can't decide if she's relieved to see Quinn or not. Why is she here? Just, how?

Quinn looks irritated by something as she approaches, and it takes the woman far too long to notice Beca behind the cheerleaders. "Aubrey, do you want to tell me why - Beca?"

Beca flushes despite herself, and gives Quinn an awkward wave. "Hi, Quinn," she says.

Quinn blinks once, twice, and then allows herself to take in the scene in front of her. "What is going on here?" she asks again. "Aubrey, talk, now."

Tall-Blonde - Aubrey, apparently - straightens to her full height. "Well, Coach, we - "

"Coach?" Beca squeaks.

Quinn glances at her, features softening just slightly. "You'll get your turn in a minute," she says. "Aubrey, continue."

Aubrey looks between Quinn and Beca, clearly unsure what to make of the interaction. "Um, well, we just finished practice," she says; "and we were out there talking when we heard a sound. We came around here to find her, clearly eavesdropping."

"Was not," Beca immediately says, and she feels very fifteen years old in this moment. She almost pouts. "I wasn't," she insists. "I came out here long before they even showed up. I was just listening to music, but then they started talking about - " she stops, sudden and abrupt.

"See!" Aubrey says. "She _was_ eavesdropping."

Quinn gives her a look. "Are you seriously trying to justify essentially ganging up on an underclassman because she happened to hear something she shouldn't have? Because you were talking so freely, right here, out in the open, where anyone could hear you?"

Aubrey opens her mouth to reply, but very quickly closes it, her teeth making an audible clack.

Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment, and then looks at the cheerleaders. "You two, get out of here," she says. "Aubrey, stay."

The shorter blonde and Black-Hair quickly scramble away, leaving Aubrey to her fate. Quinn steps closer to her and drops the volume of her voice. "I don't really care about whatever's going on here, because I have far too many things to worry about right now," she says. "I suspect you do, too."

Aubrey frowns for a beat, as if she doesn't quite understand what Quinn is talking about. But, then, it dawns on her, and her facial expression does a myriad of things, before she nods once and says, "I'll talk to her."

Quinn sighs. "No, Aubrey," she says. "Don't talk _to_ her. Just, listen."

Aubrey nods, solemn, and then takes the dismissal, rushing away and leaving Beca alone with Quinn for the first time in their entire lives.

Beca is still very confused. "What are you doing here?" she finds herself asking, which may or may not be a stupid question.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Quinn shoots straight back.

"I go here," Beca says.

"Well, I go here, too," Quinn says, frowning. "What are you doing under here?" she asks, and she spends a moment looking around, her face looking a little nostalgic.

"It seemed like a nice, quiet place to hang out," she says with a shrug. "But then those cheerleaders came along, and they were saying some awful things about - "

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "About?"

"It doesn't matter."

Quinn gives her a long look, and Beca wonders why it seems as if she already knows. Beca wouldn't be surprised if she did, anyway, because Quinn seems to know all sorts of things. "Come on," she finally says, and then turns to leave.

"What?"

"Come with me, Beca," she says, waving an arm.

"Why? Where are we going? Am I in trouble?" she questions. "Because I'm pretty sure just sitting here while other people have a conversation next to me isn't against the law, you know?"

Quinn stops and looks at her. "Bec," she says a little tiredly. "Calm down, will you? Just come with me, all right? You're not in trouble or anything, okay? I'm just tired, and we haven't talked in a while, so will you just come with me?"

Beca goes with her.

* * *

"Why are you tired?"

Quinn furrows her brow, smoothing a hand over her hair as they walk towards the main school building. "Excuse me?"

"You mentioned you were tired," Beca points out. "Is something wrong?"

Quinn glances at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. Sometimes, Quinn has to force herself to remember just how young Beca actually is. "Lots of things are... wrong," she says, a little cryptically.

"Oh."

Quinn sighs. "It's just, you know, I've spent the last fifteen years teaching college students, and most of them generally enter my lecture theatre already having some kind of idea about who they are." She puffs out a breath. "High school students, not so much."

"Ah."

"It's just different," Quinn elaborates, suddenly conscious of the fact she sounds ungrateful for the work she has the opportunity to do. "Everything is new, but the same, and I worry I'm doing more harm than good, because I honestly have no idea _what_ I'm doing half the time."

Beca looks at her; notes the crease in her brow and the thin line of her lips. She can't imagine the stress Quinn must deal with, just from feeling so much, and Quinn seems to carry it in her very being. "So, basically, that feeling never goes away, huh?"

Quinn laughs softly. "I don't suppose it does," she says, opening the double doors for Beca to go through when they reach the back of the main building. "I reckon I've just been faking it for years."

"You do it quite well," Beca comments.

"I think they should have awards for how well people can pretend to be fully-functioning human beings," Quinn muses, a small grin on her face. "We should at least get _something_ out of it, don't you think?"

"We should write to the Association," Beca jokes, and she feels rather smug when Quinn's laughter bubbles out of her. It's an accomplishment; really, it is, and she won't let anyone tell her anything different.

"Start a petition, if we have to," Quinn adds a beat later, looking so thoroughly amused. "I'm sure I could wrangle a few people."

Beca giggles, which is borderline mortifying. "We are so weird," she comments.

"But, isn't it wonderful?"

Beca seems to give it a bit of thought. "Huh, yeah, I guess it kind of is."

Quinn pats her shoulder. "That's the spirit, little youngling."

"I'm not _that_ young."

"Nope," Quinn quips. "If I get teased for being old; then you're going to have to endure your penance for being such a spritely chicken."

"Wow," she breathes. "Did you actually just say that?"

Quinn nods, suddenly solemn. "I just replayed it in my head, and I hate myself just a little for it."

Beca shakes her head. _This_ is why Quinn is awesome, and Beca is so happy she gets to know this person.

Whoever she is.

Actually.

"You work here," Beca suddenly says.

Quinn smiles ever so slightly. "I do, yes," she says. "I teach upperclassmen English, and I coach cheerleading."

Beca blinks. "You coach cheerleading?"

Quinn's eyebrows rise. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"Does that mean you were a cheerleader in high school?"

Here, Quinn hesitates, and she can tell Beca notices. "It's a little complicated," she eventually answers. "I was, and then I wasn't, and then I was, and wasn't, then I was for like an hour, and then just wasn't ever again."

"Whoa."

"Indeed," Quinn says, frowning a little. "I was very deluded at that time in my life, Beca. One day, I hope I'll be able to explain it to you, but I hope you can understand that people are usually not what they seem, and that they're capable of change."

Beca sighs. "Why do I get the feeling you're trying to talk to me about my father without actually doing it?"

"Damn," Quinn muses. "I thought I was being a lot more subtle."

Beca rolls her eyes.

"I promise I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do," Quinn says, and she sounds so, so serious. "I know what it's like to buckle under society's expectations, and I want you to know you have a safe place with me, and with Rachel. With our family." She smiles a little sadly. "I don't want you to have to go through life afraid of anything, okay?"

And, really, Beca looks completely stumped by Quinn's words. It would be funny, if the situation wasn't just a little heartbreaking.

Quinn pats her shoulder again, just a little awkward with her affection, and Beca smiles up at her. "I'm sure it was a surprise to see me, right?" Quinn says.

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, think your precious heart can handle another?"

* * *

Rachel hears them long before she sees them.

Quinn laughs at something, the sound free and unapologetic, and Rachel is already smiling when there's a soft knock on the Choir Room door. She turns away from the sheet music she's organising and comes face-to-face with the love of her life and... Beca.

Rachel's eyes widen. "Beca?"

The teenager smiles a little sheepishly. "Hi, Rachel."

"What are you doing here?" she asks, and then looks at Quinn for an answer.

"I found her under the bleachers," Quinn explains.

Rachel winces at the reminder of Quinn's foray into skank-hood and how that place was her home base for several months. "I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means."

Beca looks between them. "What does it mean?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Never you mind," she says. "Do you want to tell Rachel what you were doing?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Beca immediately defends, her eyes a little wide. "Quinn, I swear I wasn't. I was really minding my own business, just waiting for Sheila to come and get me, and then those girls just came out of nowhere."

Quinn smiles at her. "Bec, I told you to tell _Rachel_ ," she says. "I already believe you."

"Oh."

Rachel waves Beca forward. "What girls? Was someone picking on you?"

Beca shifts uncomfortably. "Do I look like the type of girl who gets bullied in high school?"

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Do _I_?"

Beca blinks. "You were?"

Rachel glances at Quinn for a beat, wishing her wife wouldn't continually beat herself up over it. "I was, yes," she answers Beca. "Quite consistently. Even before high school. I was too loud, too _much_ , with dreams of Broadway and gay fathers. It was practically written."

"That sucks," Beca says.

Rachel reaches for Quinn, unable to stop herself. Her fingers close around Quinn's wrist, and she tugs the woman closer. "Well," Rachel muses. "Some would say it's part of life, and it really helped with my career."

The one silver lining, Rachel likes to tell Quinn.

"Oh, yeah, I totally _Googled_ you," Beca says, grinning at them. She can almost forget they're still at school. She's just having a conversation with two people she's come to consider her friends. Confidantes, maybe. Important.

Rachel groans, bumping her forehead against Quinn's shoulder and getting soft laughs from both Beca and Quinn.

"Baby, you're famous," Quinn teases.

"Shut up, Fabray," Rachel grouses, which just turns Beca's giggles into something real. Rachel turns comically narrow eyes on her. "This is your fault."

"I already told you I was going to look you up."

"And, what exactly did you find, Traitor?"

Beca shrugs. "Nothing I didn't already know."

Rachel tilts her head to the side, intrigued. "I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing."

"You're very talented, Rachel," Beca says. "You're also very charitable. I don't think anything else is important."

Rachel's expression softens. "Oh, Bec," she mumbles, suddenly emotional.

"Don't mind her," Quinn says from beside her. "She's gone all googly over the idea of having another child."

Rachel swats at Quinn's arm, and then looks at Beca. "Can I hug you?" she asks, and it would be weirder if they all stopped to consider Rachel and Quinn are actually teachers, and Beca is a student.

Still, it doesn't feel like that when Beca just manages a single nod before Rachel is wrapping her in a hug so tight that she squeaks in surprise. Something settles within her at the contact, though, and Beca slides her own arms around Rachel's waist. She can't actually remember the last time someone hugged her for the sake of hugging her.

Rachel tries to ignore the way Beca is practically trembling in her arms, but she can barely handle it. She thinks Quinn must notice, too, because she feels another pair of arms encircle them both a few beats later.

"I was feeling left out," Quinn says softly when Beca initially startles at the contact. "Where's _my_ hug, huh?"

Rachel breathes out, finding that safety in Quinn's arms. She can just hope it all translates to Beca, as well, because she's convinced there's nothing more comforting than Quinn (Berry-)Fabray.

The group hug lasts entirely too long, and Beca is the one to squirm and initiate the release, starting to feel a little awkward. Rachel has to look away for a moment while Quinn ruffles Beca's hair, which makes the teenager scowl.

Beca clears her throat. "So, you're both teachers here?" she asks.

"Yip," Quinn says. "Like I said, English for me, and everything Music for the emotional wreck over there."

Rachel shoots her a look. "I hate you a little bit right now."

"No, you don't," Quinn quips.

Rachel ignores her, in favour of looking at Beca. "Why haven't I seen you in any Music lessons?" she asks, and she sounds only a little put out.

Beca ducks her head. "I - I joined the junior choir just this week," she says; "and I was thinking of showing up at Thursday's meeting for the school production." She licks her lips. "I don't really see any place I can use my producing skills."

Rachel jumps a little, stepping forward. "Well, you could always join me and the Bellas," she suggests.

Beca blinks. " _You're_ the show choir director?"

Rachel nods, looking a little confused. "Have you heard something about me?"

Beca blushes, trying to decide if it's worth mentioning that Chloe has been trying to get her to join the Bellas since they met. She thinks she'll be giving away the girl she potentially has a crush on, and it'll be even worse if Rachel knows her. "Not really," she eventually says, deciding. "Just, you know, the idea you two have been here the entire time is a little mind-blowing."

"Tell me about it," Quinn says. "Just when you think you've left high school behind, it drags you right back in."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Why are you so weird?" she asks her, before looking at Beca. "So, you said you're joining my musical?"

Beca blinks. " _Your_ musical?"

Rachel shrugs, and then rests a hand on Beca's shoulder. "Stick with me, Bec, and I will take you places."

It might be teasing, some kind of joke, but Beca believes her.

* * *

To say Chloe's surprised to see Beca when she walks into the Choir Room for Glee the next afternoon is an understatement. Her jaw literally drops when she sees her standing and talking to Dr Berry, and her own footsteps falter.

Aubrey walks right into her back. "Chloe," she hisses. "What are you doing?"

Chloe can't think of anything to say, which prompts Aubrey to look past her at their show choir director and maybe newest member.

"Oh," Aubrey says. "What is _she_ doing here?"

Chloe stiffens, and glances at Aubrey's face, hearing the hostility in her voice. "Do you know her?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Aubrey dismisses. "We just had a bit of a run-in, that's all."

Chloe studies her face very closely, realising there's something Aubrey isn't saying, if the odd tint of guilt in her eyes is anything to go on. She's tempted to ask more about it, but Dr Berry calls for their attention in the next beat, and the question disappears from her mind when Beca finally notices her.

Chloe stares a little, and then blushes when Beca offers her the tiniest of smiles and an uncomfortable shrug.

"Please find a seat," Dr Berry says, and Chloe just manages to follow the instruction without tripping over herself and possibly making an even bigger fool of herself. She drops into a chair beside Aubrey and turns her attention to the woman currently addressing them. Beca won't exactly look at her, and Chloe can't even imagine what's possibly going on right now.

"We've got a new member," Dr Berry says, and she sounds particularly excited about this one. "Everyone, this is Beca. We've been talking long and hard about our potential set list, and I think - "

"Dr Berry?" Aubrey suddenly says, her hand raised and a slight scowl on her face. Chloe knows her well enough to know she's definitely put out about something, but she can't figure out just what.

"Aubrey?" Dr Berry says, pausing, her brow creased. "Is something wrong?"

Aubrey clears her throat. "Well, I just thought that everyone had to audition before they could join the group," she says. "And, I also thought last Friday was the last day to join."

Dr Berry regards her carefully, her lips forming a thin line. "You're right, Aubrey," she says. "Beca will have to audition, of course. As for the second thing, our list of participants isn't due for another few weeks, so it matters little when our deadline is." She looks at Beca. "Time to sing, Bec."

Beca's eyes widen. "What?" she squeaks. "I don't have anything prepared."

Dr Berry just smiles. "There must be something," she says. "Even _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ will do. We just want to hear you sing."

Beca shoots a look at Dr Berry that makes Chloe squirm from just how familiar they are, but Dr Berry merely laughs softly as she takes a seat in the front row.

"Anything at all," Dr Berry says with a dramatic wave of her hands.

Beca looks stumped for a long, long moment, before she lets out a heavy sigh and gets to her feet. She moves towards the piano, and Chloe feels her heart jump into her throat at the thought of Beca being able to play the piano.

She doesn't sit, though. Instead, she retrieves the cup of stationery perched on its top and empties its contents on a mess of papers. She's blushing when she faces them again, and visibly shakes herself before she settles cross-legged on the floor.

Chloe isn't the only one who's confused, but Beca starts moving before anyone can think to question her. She does a complicated move with the cup, hitting it against the floor and creating her own accompaniment.

Because.

Then.

She starts to sing.

And there's very little Chloe can do other than stare at her, helpless to whatever this moment means for her and the rest of her ridiculous life.

_I got my ticket for the long way 'round  
_ _Two bottle 'a whiskey for the way  
_ _And I sure would like some sweet company  
_ _And I'm leaving tomorrow, wha-do-ya say?_

_When I'm gone  
_ _When I'm gone  
_ _You're gonna miss me when I'm gone  
_ _You're gonna miss me by my hair  
_ _You're gonna miss me everywhere, oh  
_ _You're gonna miss me when I'm gone_

_I've got my ticket for the long way 'round  
_ _The one with the prettiest of views  
_ _It's got mountains, it's got rivers, it's got sights to give you shivers  
_ _But it sure would be prettier with you_

_When I'm gone  
_ _When I'm gone  
_ _You're gonna miss me when I'm gone  
_ _You're gonna miss me by my walk  
_ _You're gonna miss me by my talk, oh  
_ _You're gonna miss me when I'm gone_

The following applause startles Chloe out of her thoughts - or lack thereof - and her heart skips several beats. She can't be sure what she was ever expecting from Beca, but it definitely wasn't that, and she's unsure how to handle it.

Dr Berry gets to her feet again, saying words Chloe doesn't hear. She's probably welcoming Beca to the Bellas properly, which means she's staying.

Oh.

Chloe's aware Beca looks hopefully at her when she's done, as if she wants to see what Chloe thinks, and Chloe will kick herself for it later, but she pretends she doesn't see.

She's not ready for any of this.

* * *

Beca thinks she does well to hide her confusion.

And hurt.

Chloe seemed shocked to see her, yes, but she also seemed pleased. Now, though, she's not sure exactly what's happened, because Chloe barely looks at her for the duration of the entire practice.

Beca feels awkward and out of place from the moment she finishes singing her unexpected audition, but she tries to ignore it. At least she has CR with her, so she has someone to sit with and snark over all the Top 40 hits that the other girls suggest when Rachel asks for song suggestions.

Beca pushes Chloe to the back of her mind and pays attention to Rachel as she teaches. Beca was unsure what it would be like to be taught by her, but she loves it. Rachel is so animated and involved and careful to include every member, asking questions and providing feedback, and Beca feels herself fall in love with music just that bit more. She didn't think it was even possible.

"Well, I think we've made some good progress today," Rachel eventually says, bringing the session to an end. "I think it works well to try out several genres of songs, and try to figure out what works best for us as a new group."

Beca watches as she promptly dismisses them, and then she's getting to her own feet, intent on asking Chloe if there's a problem... but Chloe does the thing and bolts from the room before Beca can even formulate a thought of what she plans to say.

Well.

She stands, a little frozen in place, absently waving goodbye to CR, before Rachel appears at her side. "I think that went well," she says, and Beca finds herself nodding. "Your audition was lovely, by the way. Why would you claim you can't sing?"

"I'm pretty sure I said I _don't_ sing," she clarifies, managing a smile.

Rachel still catches onto some lingering melancholy. "Is everything okay?" she asks. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot, even though I kind of did mean to." She smiles innocently, and Beca laughs lightly.

"It's not that," she says, sighing. "I just - I don't really get the feeling I was necessarily welcomed."

Rachel nods, as if she understands, and Beca reckons she probably does. "I got that slight impression, as well," she says, sounding thoughtful. "I'll keep an eye on it, okay?"

Beca just nods.

"Are you heading home now?"

Beca checks her phone for the time. "Sheila should be arriving soon, yeah," she says, slight bitterness creeping into her tone. "I guess I'll have something to tell her, now, about how I'll be spending some of my afternoons."

"Join the play," Rachel says; "I'll keep you so busy, you'll wish you could spend all your time at home."

Beca glances at her. "Are you even looking forward to this play?"

"I am," Rachel says. "I really, really am."

"But...?"

"I've never really put one together on my own," she admits. "I'm afraid I might have to consult with my fellow teachers, and I - " she stops and clears her throat. "You know what, you probably don't even want to hear any of this."

"I don't mind."

"I'm your teacher."

"You're my friend first."

Rachel looks at her, her features soft and open. "And, don't you forget it," she says, bopping Beca's nose with her forefinger. "So, do you want to tell me what's really bothering you?"

Beca smiles. "Not really."

"Okay," Rachel says. "If you decide you do, then I'm here. Or Quinn. Or both of us, really."

Beca knows there's a part of her that's amused, but she's a little more overwhelmed than she thought she would be. In terms of the adults in her life, she doesn't have many who are supportive, and now she's managed to stumble onto two of them. Just like that. "Thanks," she says.

Rachel pats her shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I think the situation with the Bellas is going to improve," she says. "We're all still getting used to one another. There are new members, and there's been a significant shift in power. Every group has growing pains, so I don't think it's much to do with you."

Beca believes only half of that, because she's convinced it's impossible for her to win over Aubrey. Not that she even wants to. It's just, well, Aubrey _is_ Chloe's best friend, and, if Beca wants -

Well, does it really matter what Beca wants?

Chloe bolted from the Choir Room for a reason, and Beca is going to do her best not to read into it too much.

She's failing.

* * *

Chloe goes straight to Dr Fabray's classroom, not really sure what to expect when she gets there. She has no idea what she's doing or what she's going to say; just that she needs something only her Coach can give her.

Thankfully, Dr Fabray is in her classroom, seated behind her desk and in the middle of marking a stack of papers. Her brow is slightly furrowed and she's humming some tune Chloe doesn't recognise.

Chloe knocks on the open door, and her head immediately snaps up, eyes a little wide.

"Chloe," she says, smiling. "This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

Chloe steps into the room and closes the door behind her. This is going to be a very, very private conversation.

And unscripted, Chloe realises, when her mouth opens and she asks, "How did you know?"

Dr Fabray blinks in confusion. "How did I know what?"

Chloe moves further into the room, heading to the first row of desks and sliding onto one, allowing her legs to dangle. "I don't think I like kissing boys as much as I'm supposed to."

Dr Fabray seems to relax at her confession, setting her pen on her desk and leaning forward slightly. "Oh."

"I - I'm sorry about Saturday," Chloe says. "I don't really know what came over me."

"Don't you?"

Chloe's eyes drift to Dr Fabray's upper arm that's hidden by her blouse. "I suppose _you_ do, though."

Dr Fabray smiles softly. "I might."

"I think I like girls," Chloe confesses, her voice cracking mid-sentence. "I mean, I _know_. One specific girl, as far as I'm aware, but - "

"But it's opened your eyes to a lot of your past thoughts and experiences that you didn't recognise for what they were until you just did?"

Chloe closes her eyes as she nods. "Is that normal?"

"What?"

"One girl just opening your eyes to everything?"

"It happens, definitely," Dr Fabray says. "It's different for everyone."

Chloe opens her eyes and looks at Dr Fabray's face. "Can I ask, uh - "

"About my experience?"

Chloe nods, her heart rate rising.

"There was a girl for me," she says, her voice quiet. "We went to high school together, and I really struggled with it. For years. I wasn't very nice to her because of it."

Chloe drops her gaze, feeling guilt settle in her stomach, because she's convinced she's already started, based on the way she bolted from the Choir Room without even acknowledging Beca.

"I didn't really have anyone to talk to about it," Dr Fabray says. "I didn't feel safe with anyone, and I crumbled under the weight of it right through my teenage years."

"What changed?"

"College really helped," she says. "Circumstances changed. I found people I trusted. I found people who cared enough to help me become more of myself."

Chloe nods, just listening. "And the girl?"

"Which girl?"

"The one that started it all."

Dr Fabray smiles gently, her eyes a little faraway. "Oh, I married her."

* * *

Quinn sits with Chloe for almost an hour, initially taking a moment to text Rachel and inform her she's going to be late tonight. It's a no-brainier, based on the shiftiness in Chloe's eyes and the way she can't seem to sit still.

"Do your parents know?" Chloe asks.

Quinn raises her eyebrows, her expression a little incredulous.

"Right," Chloe murmurs; "stupid question."

"Not stupid," Quinn says; "just a few years late."

Chloe's blush darkens.

"But, yes, my parents are aware I married a woman." She grins a little lopsidedly. "My parents divorced when I was sixteen, so my father wasn't in my life when I came out. My mother, unfortunately, wasn't and still isn't accepting of me."

"Oh."

Quinn sighs. "Not all of it will be easy, Chloe," she says. "Obviously, you have choices here. You don't have to _do_ anything."

Chloe keeps her gaze on the ground, gently gnawing on her bottom lip. "If I want to?"

"Then that's also something we can talk about," Quinn offers. "You have support."

"Who? Aubrey?" She almost scoffs, because she's convinced she's alienating her best friend right now.

She just doesn't think Aubrey will understand. Maybe she'll pretend to, because Chloe is the only person who truly knows Aubrey's struggles, and she'll try to do the same. Chloe doesn't want something like that. She wants something genuine, and it terrifies her that she knows it could come from Beca.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Chloe says. "Do you even think they would understand? They're all so boy-obsessed? What if - what if they stop liking me? What if they start acting different, because, I mean, the locker room is, like..." she trails off.

Quinn straightens in her seat. She's been tempted to get to her feet a handful of times, but she thinks it's better there's a physical barrier between them. "There is a real possibility people won't understand," Quinn says, trying to be realistic. "There are even people who might ridicule you for it, speak _at_ you about what they believe is a sin, force you to question yourself. Like with anything that's not considered a social norm, homosexuality is viewed less than desirably, even after all the progress we've managed to make."

Chloe audibly swallows. "I - I don't think I could do that to my parents," she admits softly. "They've already been through so much because - because of my brother."

Quinn nods in understanding, suddenly unsure what to say. She's taken a few classes in counselling, having been an academic advisor at Columbia, but dealing with minors is different. One can't just tell it like it is. She needs to be more subtle; less straightforward.

"Do you think your parents will react badly?" Quinn asks, trying to establish if Chloe will be safe.

"No," Chloe says, sounding so certain. "I just - I get the feeling they won't react at all."

"Oh."

Chloe shrugs. "Things have been weird since..." she trails off. "Things have just been weird."

Quinn waits, ever so patient. She won't push Chloe to talk, and she definitely won't coax anything out of her. She's trying to offer a safe space; a place she knows she can go for moments like these. Her own experience with high school teachers and guidance counsellors left a lot to be desired, and she's making sure there are no stupid brochures in sight.

"I told you I wasn't always an only child," Chloe says.

"And I told you neither was I."

Chloe blinks. "My brother died," she reminds Quinn, as if they haven't touched this topic before, and Quinn aches for her. "He - he died, and it's like our entire family died with him." She takes a breath. "Is that - I don't know if it's normal."

"I don't think there's anything normal about a way a person deals with grief," Quinn finds herself saying. "Do you get the chance to talk about it with your parents?"

"No."

Quinn licks her lips, just waiting.

"I think they feel guilty," Chloe says. "And, I just - I don't know how they'll handle it if I - "

"Hey," Quinn soothes. "There's nothing you _have_ to do, okay?"

"I'm - I'm not very good at... hiding things," she admits. "It doesn't sit well with me, and I mean, I'm such a tactile person, and I don't - what am I supposed to do?"

Quinn's smile is sad and understanding. "Will it make you feel different if I told you a bit about myself at your age?"

"Please."

"You probably already know this, but I was head cheerleader as a sophomore, and the pressure was telling. People talk about Sue Sylvester as if she's some kind of legend, but the truth was she was a dictator who would have happily set us on fire to with a National Championship. She didn't care about us, initially, beyond what we could do for her, and that kind of atmosphere created a toxicity within our own ranks. It's a horrible thing. That kind of environment isn't something you feel safe enough to come out in."

Chloe nods. "But ours is."

"I'm trying," Quinn admits a little sheepishly, because she really is. "Anyway, I struggled, as I've said, with body image, expectations, my faith. All of it kept building and building, and it just wouldn't stop. Does that make sense?"

"God, yes."

Quinn smiles softly. "She was going after my boyfriend," she explains. "My girl. She was - wow, we didn't get along. Like, at all. I was a complete bitch, Chloe. I was popular and important, and she just wasn't. I was convinced I hated her, but I really, really didn't, and life has a habit of showing you exactly what you need to know when you need to know it."

"It didn't happen then?"

"No," Quinn answers. She knows she won't be able to explain fully, given the entire Beth thing. Her situation was always complicated, and Rachel just expounded that. "It happens exactly when it's supposed to." She looks away for a moment. "I was a mess my senior year. Like, beyond anything. They don't have any around here, but I was rolling with the Skank crowd, though my wife would call it the PC 'Punk,' which is kind of her. I quit Glee, ignored everyone, took up smoking, skipped class, all those rebellious things people do when they're trying to avoid dealing with themselves, but she was always in my corner, even when I did everything I could to push her away."

Chloe looks a little thrown, and Quinn really doesn't expect it when she asks, "You were in Glee?"

Quinn grins, a little bewildered that's the part Chloe is focusing on. "I was, yeah," she says. "Even won a National Title."

Chloe looks thoughtful. "That means you were here at the same time as Dr B," she states, already knowing the truth of it, because Dr Berry already confirmed it.

Quinn frowns. "Who?"

"Dr Berry."

"Oh, uh, yes, we graduated together." Is this the moment she explicitly gives away her relationship to Rachel? They've talked about it, obviously. It's not as if they're actually hiding, but there's still a level of discreetness that they maintain around the school. It's still Ohio, and neither of them wants to create some kind of displaced scandal by being too open, or whatever, on school grounds.

They're just being careful.

Fortunately or not, she's saved from an actual response when her phone vibrates on her desk, indicating a call, and she lifts it to see Mia's smiling face. "Sorry," she tells Chloe. "Do you mind if I take this?"

Chloe smiles. "Of course," she says. "I have a lot to think about, anyway."

Quinn gives her a look of concern, but ultimately answers the phone with a quiet, "Hello."

"I know you're busy," Rachel rushes to say. "I just wanted to check if you're still going to make it to dinner with my parents tonight."

Quinn eyes Chloe again, noting the crease in her brow and the way her body just won't relax. "Probably not," she eventually answers.

"Okay," Rachel says. "Should I save you something?"

"Please."

"Okay," Rachel says again. "See you later. I love you."

"I love you, too," she returns, as easy as breathing. "Kiss the kids for me."

When Rachel drops the call, Quinn sets her phone back on her desk and says nothing. Whatever Chloe's thinking about seems heavy, so Quinn is determined to let her mull it over for as long as she needs.

* * *

"Can I tell you about her?" Chloe finds herself asking, her heart suddenly pounding.

Dr Fabray smiles, gentle and with her eyes. "Of course. You can tell me whatever you want."

Chloe hesitates.

Dr Fabray taps her own nose with her forefinger. "Confidentiality is assured, Beale," she says with a smile.

"She's new," Chloe confesses. "I'd never seen her before, but I definitely noticed when I did. She - she just has this _thing_ about her, and I can't seem to... stay away." Her gaze drifts to the left, her heart stuttering. "We've talked a bit, and we text, and I've wanted to spend more time with her, but - "

Dr Fabray's features are soft and open, allowing Chloe the time she needs to work out her thoughts.

"But I also really don't want to," Chloe admits. "It's all so terrifying. Like, do you think she can tell that I - God, what if she can? That would be - no, I don't even - "

"Chloe," Dr Fabray says, calm. "Just breathe, okay? In through your nose, hold it, and then out through your mouth. Do it again."

Chloe focuses on the sound of her voice and her breathing. She's not exactly panicked, but she's almost there. Well, she was.

Now, she's looking at her teacher, and she feels more safe than she has since Patrick. It hurts, the realisation, but it's also soothing.

"Maybe she knows, and maybe she doesn't," Dr Fabray says; "but I don't think that's what has you so freaked out."

"What?" Chloe sighs. "The last thing I want is for people to know."

Dr Fabray presses her lips into a thin line for a moment, and then says, "I don't think that's true."

"You don't?"

"I think you _want_ people to know, but you don't want to be the one to tell them."

Chloe opens her mouth to refute it, but she can't actually deny it. "Oh."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Dr Fabray says. "When I first figured it out, I wished my best friend could just look at me and figure it out, so we could just talk about it without me having to say it out loud." She grins a little lopsidedly. "Even when I did sit her down to tell her, I didn't even have to say the words. I kind of just said, 'It appears we're more alike than I thought,' and she just knew."

"Your best friend is... uh, she likes girls too?"

Dr Fabray nods. "I think you'll find we sometimes travel in packs," she jokes, even though she looks deathly serious. "Not everyone _gets_ it, so it's comforting surrounding yourself with people who just do."

"I don't want to tell anyone," Chloe says. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

"And that's okay," Dr Fabray says. "Everything in your own time, Chloe. Just know that I'm in your corner, no matter what, okay?"

Chloe breathes out slowly, and then manages a smile. "Thanks, Coach."

* * *

"Everything okay?" Rachel asks when Quinn finally gets home.

Quinn tugs on her hand and draws her into a warm hug. "God, I hope so."

* * *

Rachel isn't sure what to expect of the turnout to her first meeting for the musical, but she gets the surprise of her life when she steps into the auditorium to find an alarming number of students already hanging around, all of them waiting on her for some kind of direction.

She forgets, sometimes, that things have changed since she was a student here, and the Arts are now celebrated. These students are eager and excited, and she is so ready to feed off their energy.

The Drama department is captained by a single student, Benji Applebaum, and Rachel has heard nothing but good things about his talent and work ethic. She's not even a little worried, knowing she has him in her corner.

The plan is to put on a slightly altered production of _Dear Evan Hansen_ , and Benji is a shoe-in to play the lead. Well, that's what Jesse tells her, and, while she's not inclined to trust what he says in general, he's proven to be an asset in the department. He takes his work seriously, which is always helpful when Rachel is still trying to figure out just how she's supposed to handle everything.

Quinn is going to help, of course, but she'll show up later. Or tomorrow. Whenever Rachel needs her.

It's a little overwhelming stepping onto the stage to address the gathered students, but she quickly settles into the role. She's Rachel Berry(-Fabray), a Broadway legend in her own right, and she has commanded many a stage in her active years.

She can handle this.

Rachel works through her list of announcements quickly and efficiently, inviting all the students to take to the sign-up sheets with their interests. She expects the auditions' list to be long, but she also knows there are students here who are interested in sound, lighting and backstage work.

She peeks at Beca sitting in the fifth row with Cynthia-Rose when she mentions the sound sheet, and the girl blushes for only a moment before she breaks into a grin. Rachel floods with warmth at the sight, absently wondering if there's something wrong with her biological clock.

She _is_ forty. Surely she doesn't want another child. Quinn is right in saying they can barely handle the three they already have, so why would she want a fourth? Fifth? Just, another?

Rachel clears her throat, and then very carefully dismisses the group, watching as they scurry around to get their names on the appropriate lists. It still catches her off guard that this is her life now, but she's learning to love it in all its complexity and simplicity.

There hadn't been some big announcement when they left New York. She and Quinn worked steadily in their respective lanes for years, the pair of them making names for themselves and growing a loyal following, both in and out of the LGBTQ+ community.

There have been a few articles of their apparent disappearance from the limelight - more hers, given Quinn decided it best to keep a handle on her fame through the use of a pseudonym for her fictional work - but they've been able to remain largely unaffected by gossip and unwanted interest.

Of course, there is stan _Twitter_ , who are eager to figure out just where they've disappeared to.

It isn't even that Rachel has given up on that life completely. She still writes songs, and she has several television interviews scheduled in the upcoming year that she'll probably remain relevant, but not enough that she and her family won't be able to live quiet, comfortable lives.

"Dr Berry," Benji calls out, getting her attention and holding up a piece of paper for her to see. "I think you're going to need another audition sign-up sheet."

* * *

Beca doesn't know why she does it, but it seems like the thing to do to hang around until the end of the first Musical meeting, if only because Rachel looks a little haggard when the last of the students trickle out of the auditorium. It's almost amusing, but Beca definitely feels for her.

She moves through the aisle towards where Rachel is packing up her notes, walking with purpose. She has a bottle of water in her hand that she practically shoves into Rachel's hands, startling the poor woman.

"Oh, Bec," she gasps, laughing at herself. "You scared me. Oh, what's this?"

"Water," Beca tells her, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "You look like you could use some."

Rachel smiles in relief. "Thank you," she says, turning the lid and having a sip. "So, what did you think? Did I do okay?"

"I think you were great," Beca tells her, sincere. "A little shaky in the beginning, but you definitely seemed to find your footing."

Rachel's smile is soft. "So, are you planning on auditioning?"

"Oh, no," she says; "you've already put me through one of those. I'm happy to do backstage work. I'm really keen to work on the sound."

"I imagine," Rachel says, sipping more water. "The music is something wonderful, and I'm definitely looking forward to getting started."

Beca nods. "Maybe I could be part of the chorus," she offers.

"Still going to have to audition."

* * *

Emma is already streaking across the field when Quinn arrives at the soccer field, oddly exhausted after a long day of teaching and then coaching. She couldn't help noticing some kind of disconnect between Aubrey and Chloe, and she can only hope they'll be able to sort things out before it bleeds into the rest of the Squad.

Quinn walks along the edge, watching for her daughter and smiling when Emma steals the ball from another kid and dribbles right past another pair. Quinn knows Emma is probably too good for this team, but she and Rachel decided it was in Emma's best interests to spend some time with her own age group before they considered shifting her to a more advanced team.

Soon, though, because Emma deserves the challenge.

She's just approaching the bleachers when her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she reaches for it immediately, unsurprised to find a text from Rachel.

 **Rachel** : _Auditions have drained me… Think Em will hate me if I don't show up_?

Quinn grins to herself and she text back.

 **Quinn** : _If it's a risk you're willing to take…_

 **Rachel** : _I hate you_.

 **Quinn** : _I love you, too_ 😘

She pockets her phone, and then searches the bleachers for a familiar, sometimes-friendly face, and then hops up onto the fourth row to settle beside Maria Giorgi, who only pretends not to be happy to see her.

"Maria, hello," Quinn says, grinning at the older woman.

"Quinn," Maria says, sighing. "Is this going to be a thing now?"

"Probably," Quinn tells her, eyes tracking Emma for a moment before she glances at the book Maria's reading. "On to the third one, I see," she says. "Better or worse than the second?"

Maria sighs again. "I can't say," she finally admits, relaxing slightly.

Quinn is better at ignoring the other mothers, but it takes Maria a little while to let them fade into the background. "Because you haven't finished it?"

"This is the second time I'm reading it, but it just seems to have a different tone," Maria says. "I know these all fall under the same series of works, but there's a certain lightness to this one, which I know sets up what happens in This Is War and The Safety Dance, so I can't decide if it's better or worse. Just, different."

Quinn nods, absently recalling what she was feeling at the time. She's definitely not about to reveal that _she's_ Lucy Quinn, because she thinks that would derail whatever tentative acquaintance they've managed to build.

One day, maybe.

"I wish I could know what she was thinking," Maria finally says. "I'm always so interested to hear about authors and their thought process."

Quinn licks her lips. "Have you ever tried to _ask_ her?" she says.

"How?"

"I'm sure she has _Twitter_."

Maria blinks. " _I_ don't."

Quinn grins as if she's just discovered her life's purpose. "Maria, I knew I was friends with you for a reason," she says. "Where's your phone? I have so much to teach you."

It's how Rachel finds them, fifteen minutes later, and it takes all her willpower not to burst out laughing and give Quinn away.

Lima is definitely starting to grow on her.


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

Beca will never admit it, but she actually begins to settle into Lima.

Having a routine really helps, which is also something she won't admit. Being part of the Bellas isn't all bad, even if Chloe is still being a little cold and distant to her, which really sucks, but Beca has suffered worse. She doesn't much care for whatever Aubrey's deal is, but she sits with CR and sometimes (Fat) Amy during their lessons, and Rachel is such a good director and collaborator that she can't even regret her decision to stay.

The musical is also something she's excited about. The songs are already there, but Rachel wants to add a bit of production - which may be blasphemous, but Beca is interested in her ideas - and she asked Beca - _her_ , Beca Mitchell - to help with it.

It's insane.

This never would have happened back home.

Wait.

This is home now.

Sometimes, the realisation catches her off guard. That this is the place she now lives, in a house that still feels foreign, with a family that doesn't seem as if it's her own. She feels like a guest most of the time, and, since she and her father aren't seeing eye-to-eye about certain aspects of her life, they do little to no talking. Sheila is just a person.

Aaron is the only reason she's not currently going crazy.

And Rachel and Quinn.

Sometimes Chloe, who still texts her from time-to-time, but it's not the same as it was before.

Before.

Beca almost worries that Chloe wasn't actually serious about getting her to join the Bellas. Maybe Chloe was just being polite, or she just wanted her music, and not actually _her_. And then Beca made the mistake of taking her seriously, and now they're in this awkward position where Beca reacted to something she wasn't supposed to. It's happened to her before. She believes people when they tell her things, and she's been disappointed a lot in the past.

This one hurts more, for some reason, but she tries to ignore it as she moves through the remainder of September - her birthday coming and going with such little fanfare that she's actually relieved - and right into October, taking it all day by day. She convinces her father to take her to get her driver's licence, and it feels like something of an accomplishment to have the card in her hand, even if it's unlikely she'll even get the chance to use it.

It's something, and she counts it as another way she's settling into this crazy town. She really has no other choice, and it even starts to feel as if she's found an actually place in this stupid town.

* * *

Emma shouts, "Mom!" from the field and Quinn's head snaps up from where she's been replying to an email from her agent. "Stop looking at your phone. The game's about to start!"

Quinn just shakes her head, waving Emma back onto the field. "Pay attention to your own stuff!" she shouts back, and Emma actually huffs, stomping her foot in a manner that it so Rachel that is almost hurts Quinn to see it.

It's the first game of their season, and Quinn _is_ excited. Worried, too, and a little anxious, but very excited. Emma is starting in midfield, behind the main forward, whose name is Phillip. He's tall for a ten-year-old, but rather clumsy. It helps Emma's game when he draws the defenders towards him, giving her ample space to work with the ball at her feet. It works for Emma. At least, for now.

Quinn shoots off her email, and then pockets her phone, giving the day her full attention. Emma's team, The Beansprouts - like, good God - are playing against The Zucchinis, and Quinn laughed for a full five minutes when she saw the League's team names. Apparently, they're trying to promote the eating of vegetables, and Quinn is still fascinated by it.

Only in Lima, Ohio.

Did she also mention there's a team called The Sweet Potatoes? Wow.

Quinn resettles in her seat, only vaguely aware of the blue cooler at her feet. Rachel is in the bathroom with Matty and Mia, changing Matty's diaper with a curious Mia in tow. Quinn offered to go instead, but she's really the one Emma looks for when she peers into the gathered crowd, and it's just a truth she and Rachel have come to accept.

Plus, Quinn has Maria next to her, who looks almost as nervous as her own daughter.

"She's totally feeding off your energy," Quinn comments lightly. "You're going to make yourselves both sick with worry."

Maria glances at her, sighing. "I can't help it," she says. "Aren't you at all nervous that it's actually a mixed league?"

Quinn shrugs. "A little, sometimes, but I know Emma can hold her own against anyone, regardless of gender," she says. "So can Christina."

Maria deflates slightly. "I don't even think she _likes_ soccer," she confesses softly. "It's her brother's sport, technically. He plays Junior Varsity, and my husband dotes on him, and I think she just wants - " she stops herself quite suddenly, but Quinn gets it. Of course she gets it. She went into cheerleading for exactly the same reason, just with Frannie.

Quinn turns her body, facing Maria more fully. "If it helps any, she is quite good," she says. "I think she'd do better as a wingback, personally, but she's only going to improve." She falls silent. "Speaking as someone who's actually been in Christina's position, I think the best thing you can do for her is exactly what you're doing. Showing up. It's really all they want." And, as if to highlight that, Emma suddenly waves at Quinn from where she's getting a last drink of water, and Quinn automatically waves back.

"She's been asking me if she could train with you and Emma," Maria says. "The way Steph sometimes does. She just wants to get better."

Quinn cocks her head to the side. "Is that your way of asking _me_?"

Maria chuckles, relaxing. The woman is prickly at best, but there's a kindred spirit in there, Quinn is sure of it. She and Rachel are slowly winning her over. "It is," she says. "I mean, Emma and Christina get along, right? How _does_ Emma feel about your helping with the other kids?"

"She loves it," Quinn says, which is true. "She understands that it's a team, and everyone needs to improve if they're going to win. She also likes to help showing off the drills." She pauses. "I think she just likes _showing off_ , really. But it's okay, because it's cute. For now."

Maria laughs, and Quinn joins her.

Which is how Rachel finds them, Matty on her hip and Mia trailing along behind her. She sets Matty in Quinn's lap and then fishes in their cooler for a bottle of juice for Mia. "What's so funny?" she asks.

"Oh, we were just discussing how much of a showboat your daughter is," Quinn informs her, hands reaching to steady Matty as he attempts to stand on her legs.

Rachel smiles knowingly. "In this instance, I shall accept that she is my daughter," she says. "That is definitely a trait she inherited from me."

Mia hops onto the bench beside Quinn, silently drinking her juice, and Quinn bumps her gently, getting a toothless smile in response. Gosh, why are her children so stinking cute?

"I think it's starting," Maria says, and Rachel takes her seat on the other side of Mia.

It is starting, with the referee talking to all the children and making sure they're aware of the rules before sending them to line up for kickoff. Christina is in the starting lineup, just playing further up the pitch than Quinn thinks she should. And Aaron, sitting in midfield as a holder, suddenly looks very small.

Quinn twists her head around looking for Beca, feeling a myriad of emotions when her eyes finally settle on her. She's perched beside her father, looking glum but interested in the field. Well, in _Aaron_ probably, and Quinn likes that for her.

As far as Quinn knows, Beca interacts more with Rachel, and she appreciates that Beca feels comfortable enough to do that, even if they've established they are technically teacher and student, though they share no classes.

School has picked up, and their days keep going on, one after the other. Lima, itself, is strange as an adult, she finds, but it's maybe growing on her. They haven't had any real issues, besides the everyday raising children and trying to juggle their own lives, marriage, and jobs with the underlying truth that there are still decisions to be made about their respective parents.

The first whistle draws her attention, and Quinn forgets everything else entirely.

* * *

Rachel spots her fifteen minutes into the game. Because these are generally nine and ten-year-olds, they play 25-minute halves, and Rachel doesn't know if she can pay attention to something so painfully boring for that long.

Which is why her eyes drift.

First, she takes in the parents and families of their own team, making note of any new ones who show up for the actual games themselves, before her eyes shift across the field to where the Zucchinis have their own supporters. And, it is during her second sweep that Rachel sees her.

Judy Fabray.

Rachel's breath catches, and her first thought is that the woman is stalking them, but she dismisses the notion quickly. The woman is clearly on the opposing team's side, sitting in a camp chair, with her own cooler. There are two empty chairs beside her, and Rachel can only wonder why the woman is here. A friend? A grandchild?

The thought hurts, truly, because, if Judy has a grandchild currently playing on the field, that means Quinn has a niece or nephew and she doesn't even know it.

Rachel slides a hand along Quinn's back, and she forces her eyes away from where Emma is passing the ball to Christina to look at her. Rachel leans in close and says, "Judy is sitting across the field," as gently as she can.

Still, Quinn stiffens, and Matty looks up at her face from his position in her lap. His hand touches her cheek, which allows some of the tension to ease, but Rachel can tell she's uncomfortable.

"Do you think she'll recognise Emma?" Quinn asks, voice barely audible, given Mia is sitting between them, even if her attention is on the book in her lap.

Rachel can't answer that question, but she does keep an eye on Judy, feeling her own stomach bottom out when the woman is joined by a younger version of herself, and then an even younger version of them both.

"That's Frannie," Quinn tells her when her brow furrows. "And that must be Frannie's daughter."

Rachel keeps rubbing at Quinn's back, trying to soothe her, but not knowing if she's supposed to. If Quinn even needs it.

At halftime, Quinn plonks Matty in Maria's lap, surprising the other woman, and then gets to her feet to chat to Emma for a bit. And Christina, from the looks of things. Rachel even spots Aaron hovering close, obviously wanting some tips of his own, but knowing not to ask.

Maria glances at Rachel, her hands keeping Matty steady. "How do you even keep up?" she asks.

Rachel laughs loudly, and Mia shoots her a look. Rachel kisses the top of her head in silent apology, and then tells Maria, "Does it look like I do?"

Maria smiles, warmed a little by the baby boy in her lap. "I remember when mine were this little," she muses. "I can't say which is a better time, because they still don't listen to me."

Rachel knows Maria has two children: a boy, Valentino, who is a sophomore in high school, and Christina. She has a husband, as well, but Rachel has never seen him. "So, it's not going to get better?" Rachel asks, very pleased she and Quinn have managed to convince Maria to know them.

"Probably worse," Maria says. "Then they start talking back."

Quinn rejoins them while they're trading stories of the strangest things their children have done, and she sits on the other side of Rachel, so as not to be between them. Rachel appreciates it, because she and Maria aren't all that interested in the actual soccer.

Well, that's what Rachel tells herself until the moment Christina crosses the ball into the box and Emma connects with her left foot, sending it past the Zucchinis' goalkeeper.

Quinn leaps to her feet, arms raised, and Rachel takes a moment to do the same. Mia copies them both, and Matty squeals in delight when Maria bounces him around to complete the celebration.

Emma runs towards the sidelines and waves her hands excitedly at Quinn, which earns her a laugh and several blown kisses. Rachel has the forethought to snap a few pictures, and she honestly can't say she's seen Emma look so happy.

Damn.

Maybe she's going to have to figure out how to like this stupid sport.

When the game restarts after the goal, Rachel can feel that something is different, and she doesn't even have to look across the field to know Judy and Co. have clocked them. It definitely didn't help that the announcer made sure everyone knew the goal was scored by Number 19, Emma Berry-Fabray, either.

If Quinn has noticed, she makes no mention of it, and the Beansprouts end up winning two goals to nil, the second one a fumble by the poor goalkeeper, who ended up in tears after her mistake.

It's at times like these that Rachel accepts why some leagues choose not to keep scores, but she also believes that winning and losing helps build character. She shudders to think of the person she would be if she hadn't suffered as much as she did.

When the final whistle blows, Rachel is both relieved and anxious. She has an inkling Quinn's family might approach them, but she's ready. She and Quinn have always been ready.

Quinn starts to pack up immediately, letting Mia help, and then taking a sleeping Matty from Maria, who looks genuinely sad to part with him.

Rachel tells her, "We're taking Emma and for some celebratory pizza; do you think you and Christina would like to join us?"

Maria looks between the two of them. "I can't, unfortunately, because I have to pick up Val from his own practice, but Christina can still join you, if that's not too much trouble."

"Of course not," Rachel says, smiling sincerely. "Pizza and ice cream was the deal, and I reckon Em is going to push her luck because she scored today. Let them burn off one another's energy, I say."

Maria just laughs, and then initiates an exchange of numbers. After making sure Christina has no allergies, they decide Maria will pick Christina up from their house later, and that's that.

Well.

Emma and Christina both squeal in delight when Quinn gives them the news, and she has to turn away to make sure they don't wake a sleeping Matty, who has managed to stay that way through all the cheering and extra movement.

To Rachel's eyes, she can tell Quinn is anxious to get them out of here as quickly as possible, and she tells her she can head to her car with Matty and Mia, and she'll follow with Emma and Christina when they're ready.

Quinn studies her face for a moment, and then nods. She says a quick farewell to Maria, gently teasing the older woman about her social media presence, and then making herself scarce.

Rachel watches her go until she's safely out of sight, before she lifts their cooler and calls for Emma and Christina to get their things ready to go. Maria stays with her, which Rachel is immensely grateful for, particularly when they get to the parking lot and Judy, Frannie and Frannie's daughter are lingering behind an SUV, a little boy with them, still clad in his Zucchinis' uniform.

Rachel spares them one look before leading the way to her car. Maria bids them farewell as Rachel is loading up the back of her own _Volkswagen Tiguan_ , instructing Emma and Christina to throw in their own bags.

"Bye, Mom," Christina says after a quick hug, and then Maria is walking away.

Rachel is weirdly pleased that the woman doesn't once look back. "All right, you two," she says, pressing a button to activate the automatic door. "Who's ready for some pizza?"

It's amazing how excitable they are, and Rachel has only a moment to marvel at their youth before a young boy is approaching them. Blonde. Zucchini uniform. Dirt-smeared and sporting a nose that is very familiar.

Rachel just watches as the boy introduces himself to Emma and Christina as Daniel, a Forward, and then tells Emma her goal was _totally sick_.

Emma thanks him, ever polite, and says he has a hard shot, but he has to learn better control, which, yeah, she's definitely Quinn's daughter.

Daniel flushes at the advice, mumbles a thank you, and then spins and runs away without looking back. Rachel doesn't follow where he ends up, gently encouraging the girls into the car instead.

What she does know is that there's no way they're going to be able to hide from this now.

* * *

Beca figures pretty early that nobody is going to appreciate it if she were to tell Aaron to shut up. It's there, on the tip of her tongue, because the boy hasn't stopped talking about his soccer game for something like five hundred hours now.

It's giving her a headache.

But then Aaron is saying, "Please can we get pizza," and Beca is the only one who can see the mischievous glint in his eye.

What is he up to?

"From Benito's," he adds. "I like their pizza sauce the best. And they have the best milkshakes. Please, please. Because we won. Did you see? Emma's goal was awesome! But it kind of sucked for Hannah that she let the second goal in, and I - "

"Aaron," David says. "Breathe, son."

Aaron flushes. "Please."

David and Sheila exchange a few words in the front, and Beca just keeps her gaze on Aaron, who is making a point not to look at her. He's definitely up to something, and Beca is all for it.

When David agrees to Aaron's request, Aaron makes a fist and says, "Yes!" Then he winks at Beca, and she's left to wonder what that's all about until they get to Benito's and she sees Quinn, Rachel, their children and another girl on the team all squeezed into a booth.

Beca feels a smile spread across her face at the sight of them, and Aaron takes off towards them the second Emma spots him and waves, Sheila hissing his name to stop him, and failing.

Beca follows, because she's always going to, and Quinn's smile is blinding when she sees her.

"Hey, you," Quinn says, one hand smoothing Matty's hair as he plays with a set of plastic keys. "Are you guys also getting celebratory pizza?"

Aaron looks at her, eyes bright. "We are," he answers, switching from Emma to Quinn. "They have the best milkshakes here."

"I agree," Quinn says, and then glances over Aaron's head at David and Sheila's approach. Her face pinches slightly, but she seems to suck it up and get to her feet to introduce herself, polite to a fault.

It is as awkward as Beca expects, she and Rachel sharing an amused look when Quinn introduces her and all the kids. David is stiff, which isn't new, and Sheila just looks uncomfortable.

Then Aaron says, "Can we join you?" and Beca can't hold back her laughter at the way Sheila actually rears back and David sputters.

Quinn says, "Oh, um, are you sure?"

"Of course," Aaron says, at the same time Sheila says, "We don't want to impose."

Quinn looks a little caught, unsure what to do, and Beca feels for her, because it's gone beyond awkward and threatening to turn into something ugly.

Even Matty has stopped playing with his keys in his high chair, picking up on something in the air. So, Beca takes pity on her poor friends and sets a hand on Aaron's shoulder.

"Hey, A," she says. "I think Dad and Sheila wanted to celebrate with only you today. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to join parties another time, so long as you keep on winning."

Aaron looks at her, and she squeezes his shoulder, feeling him give in.

"Next time?" Quinn offers him with a gentle smile. "We'll make a whole day of it. Beca might even grace us with her presence."

"And hang out with a bunch of nine-year-olds," she scoffs, but she's grinning. "No thank you."

Quinn flicks her shoulder. "Jerk."

Beca rolls her eyes, and then tenses when Sheila clears her throat rather pointedly.

Quinn glances at her, jaw tense. "Good game, Aaron," she says. "You did really well against that Number 15."

"He was so much bigger than me."

Quinn laughs. "Size doesn't matter," she says. "It's only how you use it."

He beams at her, and Beca sees the way Rachel looks at her as if she hangs the moon. It is everything. Everything.

"We should get going," David suddenly says, speaking in that superior voice he gets that Beca hates. As if he's better than Quinn.

To her credit, though, Quinn just looks amused. "You should," she says. "This kid is probably starving."

If possible, Aaron's smile widens, and Beca wonders if Quinn has just won herself yet another admirer. It's not a wild thought, because Quinn gathers them just by breathing.

"We'll see you Monday," Quinn says, eyes drifting between Aaron and Beca.

Beca nods, hearing what she's saying. Aaron pouts, but he still waves at Emma and the other girl with them, both of them waving back between bites of pizza. Rachel waves, as well, and then winks at Beca, which horrifyingly makes her blush.

Jesus.

Aaron says a quick goodbye to Quinn and Rachel, and then stomps off, Sheila following after him, and David following after her. Beca lingers a while, already knowing she and Aaron are probably going to be in some kind of trouble, so she may as well stretch out her time away.

Quinn smiles at her as she retakes her seat. "Hey, Bec," she says. "I don't think you've actually met the kids, huh?"

She steps up to the table with a shake of her head. "No, I haven't," she says.

"Emma, Christina, Mia, Matty, this is Beca," Quinn says. "Aaron's older sister."

There's a small chorus of _hellos_ , and Beca can't help her smile and a similarly returned greeting.

"She's also singing with Mama," Rachel says.

Emma perks up at that, and Beca shouldn't feel as nervous as she does. There's a part of her that really wants Emma to like her, though she can't figure out why. Maybe, she needs Emma's approval to be able to keep Quinn and Rachel.

Which, okay, sounds ridiculous, but she can't help the thought.

"Beca!" her father suddenly shouts, drawing nearly the entire restaurant's attention. "We're ordering."

Beca rolls her eyes. "I better get going before he bursts an aneurysm," she says. "Which could totally happen."

Quinn smiles, though it looks a little sad. "Of course, Bec," she says. "We'll see you Monday."

"Monday," Rachel confirms.

Beca does an awkward wave at the table as a whole, and then makes her way over to her family. The thought is foreign enough that she barely acknowledges the adults as she slides into the booth beside Aaron.

"What you getting, Kid?" she asks him.

"Hawaiian."

"Gross."

He shrugs, and she loves how unapologetic he can be. "You're gross."

"You're the one who's been running around for five thousand minutes," she throws back. "All sweaty and dirty and totally smelly."

"But I won."

"Still gross."

He giggles, this easy sound, and Beca accepts that maybe it'll all be worth it if she gets to spend time with this special kid.

Well.

One glance up and she rethinks her stance. Sheila is visibly fuming, and her father is giving her a very curious look. It's almost as if he doesn't recognise her, and she realises far too late that she's still smiling.

Well.

Isn't that a thing?

* * *

"Are we going to talk about Judy?"

Quinn would like to be doing anything else, but even she can't deny that her mother may end up forcing their hand, and the idea that Judy is... doing whatever she's doing is making Quinn question a lot of things.

Still, Quinn asks, "Do we have to?" as she scrolls through her _Twitter_ , picking a few mentions and replies to respond to.

Rachel leans over to kiss her cheek, suddenly so ready to relax in bed after a rather tiring day. "I think we do," she says. "That's twice we've bumped into her. It's bound to keep happening, and I think we may or may not need to tell at least Emma more about her."

Quinn groans. "Do we have to?" she asks again, actually whining.

Rachel leans into her again, but kisses her neck instead on her cheek, and Quinn lets out a happy little moan. Lips moving and tongue licking, Rachel carefully removes Quinn's phone from her hand and tosses it over her shoulder. She kisses the line of Quinn's perfect jaw, and then claims waiting lips.

It's not a distraction, exactly, but she can't deny that she needs this as much as Quinn does.

It's when Rachel has managed to manoeuvre Quinn onto her back and get her t-shirt up over her bare breasts that Quinn says, "We'll tell her after Halloween."

Rachel just hums in agreement, and then dives right back in.

* * *

"Okay," Aubrey says, sudden and sharp. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Chloe takes a moment to look away from Beca's retreating back where she's exiting the Choir Room with Cynthia Rose. She's aware her eyes are lingering, but she can't seem to help it. Now that she seems to have acknowledged this part of her exists, she's unsure what to do about it. Dr Fabray said she doesn't have to _do_ anything, but Chloe hasn't done idle very well in the past.

Aubrey snaps her fingers in front of Chloe's face. "Beale, you're acting… God, you're acting lovesick."

"What?"

"Who are you thinking about?"

Frankly, Chloe's mind is actually blank, which is all kinds of strange, given she's pretty sure she was just staring at Beca's ass. "Uh, nothing," she says, and then frowns. "I mean, nobody."

"Is it Tom?"

"Who?"

Aubrey looks at her as if she's losing her mind, which doesn't seem very far off, at this point. " _Tom_ Tom," Aubrey emphasises, as if it's supposed to help her remember.

It sort of does, and she shakes her head. "Nope," she says. "Tom is… nowhere near my mind."

Aubrey puffs out a breath. "Red, do you know you've been acting weird all year?"

And, yes, Chloe is very aware of it, but she can't help it. Something is happening to her, and she hasn't yet figured out how to talk to her best friend about it.

Aubrey clenches her jaw for a beat, and then very quietly asks, "Did I do something?"

"Aubrey, no," Chloe assures her with no hesitation. The last thing she needs is Aubrey's insecurities rearing their ugly heads. There's already enough going on in this friendship without Aubrey allowing her father and his cutting words to sneak into their dynamic. "It's - it's not you, of course not. I'm just - I guess I'm dealing with some things."

Aubrey reaches for one of her hands and holds it securely in both of her own. "Anything I can do to help?"

Chloe sucks in a breath, and then turns in her seat to face her. "Have you ever… thought you knew yourself so well, only to discover there's actually a lot you don't know?"

Aubrey risks a smile. "Are you asking me if I'm a teenager? Because that's exactly what that sounds like."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "I'm trying to be serious here," she grumbles, but she can't resist her own smile.

Aubrey nods. "I mean, I think I get what you're saying," she says. "Like, just when you think you've got yourself figured out, it turns out there's still so much you actually need to learn about yourself. Which, if you think about it, is kind of what growing up is all about. I'm sure even people older than us are still figuring things out."

Chloe sighs. "But, what if what you learn… changes everything?"

"Then, I guess, you have to deal with it."

"What if you don't want to?"

"I've found, Chlo, that things that are meant to be dealt with usually have a way of making sure they are."

That's what Chloe is afraid of.

Aubrey allows them to sit in silence for a full minute before she says, "Do you know what you need?"

"What?"

"Something to take your mind off everything," Aubrey says. "You're coming to Sadie's Halloween party." It's not a question; more of an instruction.

Chloe doesn't even have the energy to try to get out of it, and she thinks getting out would actually be good for her. "Like I have anything better to do," she says.

Aubrey laughs. "That's the spirit."

* * *

 **Quinn** : _OMG, I just walked by that karate place downtown, and they're letting the kids wear their Halloween costumes_.

 **Quinn** : _I just saw Kylo Ren get his ass kicked by a taco_!

 **Quinn** : _My life is now complete. I can die in peace_.

 **Quinn** : _Also, what do you think about Mia starting karate? I think it could really help bring her out of her shell._

Rachel just laughs to herself as she reads Quinn's texts, absently wondering what a teenage Quinn would think of the woman she's grown into. Rachel reasons she would get the shock of her life: Quinn Fabray, fully domesticated, with three children and a wife.

A _wife_. Hah.

She's still smiling as she words her response.

 **Rachel** : _Creeper. Did you buy my donut holes? Also, yes, that's something I think we can talk to Mia about; see if she's willing to give it a try_.

She gets a reply barely a minute later.

 **Quinn** : _Fuck. You and your obsession with donut holes. I better be getting sex_.

Rachel rolls her eyes, even if her heart delights at the idea that Quinn still wants her just as much as she always has, all these years later. It's mind-blowing, sometimes, whenever she allows herself to think about it.

Quinn Fabray is her wife. Wah.

 **Rachel** : _Lots and lots_.

 **Quinn** : _Get ready, baby_ 😏

* * *

Eight donut holes and two orgasms later has Rachel rather spent, her body relaxed as she contemplates the merits of actually getting out of bed to redress. It just seems like a monumental task at this point, and Quinn is just so warm wrapped around her.

"By my calculations, we have roughly half an hour before the probability of a nighttime wakeup doubles," Quinn murmurs, speaking against the curve of Rachel's shoulder. "Which leaves us with several options."

"Hmm."

Quinn kisses her skin. "If you're not too tired, I'm sure I can make you come again."

Rachel groans, already squirming in anticipation.

"Or, I unlock that door, get dressed, and we can just go to sleep," Quinn offers a beat later.

"Don't you dare."

Quinn laughs softly, her hands already moving. "Do I even need to ask?" she practically purrs, and Rachel feels it in her bones. "Should I?"

Rachel reaches for Quinn's wrist and drags her hand to wear she wants it. "Baby," she whispers. "Please."

Because, God, they both know Quinn will deny her nothing.

* * *

"Beth called while you were out, by the way," Rachel says, bending to retrieve her pyjama top off the floor. "She was confirming she's still flying in for Thanksgiving."

Quinn lets out a yawn. "Cool," she says. "What did Shelby have to say about that?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I told you I was staying out of it like ten years ago," she says. "I have enough of my own drama with that woman beyond Beth's whereabouts."

Quinn grins at her. "Don't even try that with me," she says. "You love the fact Shelby went grey so young."

"Your kid is stressful."

Quinn laughs. "I love how you and Shelby suddenly call her _my_ kid when she does crazy, spontaneous things."

"Quinn, Sweetheart, she almost dropped out of Law School to follow her boyfriend on some Humanitarian Expedition."

"She wants to save the world."

"And starve while she's at it."

Quinn can't help her laugh as she slips on a fresh pair of socks. "If I recall correctly, you too wanted to save the world at some point in your life."

"By becoming a vegan, Quinn," she squeaks out. "Not by giving up my life's work and possessions to follow some flighty boy into the unknown."

Quinn just continues to laugh, because Rachel is hilarious when she gets all worked up about Beth and her decisions. It gets even better when Quinn adds, "And you wonder why I say you're more like Shelby than you think."

Rachel gasps loudly, and then launches herself at Quinn, knocking her over onto the bed and landing on top of her. "You take that back, Quinn Berry-Fabray. Take it back right now."

Quinn just arches an eyebrow. "Make me."

Rachel does.

Well, she definitely tries

* * *

Beca absolutely refuses to dress up for Halloween. Aaron tries every trick in the book to convince her, but she's as stubborn as they come.

"But you have to come with me," Aaron says. "And you can't just go like that."

Beca looks down at her outfit: a casual pair of jeans, tank top and a flannel shirt that she'll end up covering with her jacket - the leather one, obviously. "What's wrong with this?"

"You're not dressed up," he squeaks.

"I could be a lumberjack," she points out.

"But you don't have an axe," he argues.

"Find me an axe, then," she counters.

He rolls his eyes. "Like anyone would let you just walk around with a real axe."

"I'd be able to protect you."

"I don't even think your scrawny arms would be able to lift it."

Beca lunges at him, tickling him relentlessly. "What did you just say?" she says over his squeals of laughter. "Did you just call my arms scrawny? Huh? Is that what you just said? Did I hear correctly?"

"Beca!" he protests, breathless. "Beca, stop!"

Beca eventually releases him, taking mercy on him. "Seriously, dude, there's no way I'm dressing up."

His pout would be considered a weapon if Beca wasn't bulletproof. The years have hardened her, and credit to him for realising he isn't going to sway her as quickly as he does. "You suck," he tells her.

"Keep it up and I'll say no to taking you," she tells him, ruffling his hair. "What are you dressing up as, anyway?"

" _Spider-Man_ ," he tells her, in a voice that makes it clear she's just asked a stupid question.

And, yeah, okay, she totally should have known that. He's kind of obsessed with the superhero, and Beca totally understands. Who wouldn't be? _Peter Parker_ is awesome, and she can't help her own smile when she sees Aaron all dressed up just a couple of hours later.

He's already excitable, having had quite a bit of sugar already. He's ready to go, and Beca has to endure a short lecture about safety around strangers and sticking to the neighbourhood.

Beca nods when prompted, pretending to listen, because she already knows about Stranger Danger, thank you very much. She had a very present parent for at least fifteen years of her life, and she doesn't need David Mitchell suddenly pretending to care about her when it's really Aaron he's worrying about.

She calls him an asshole in her head, and then stomps out of the house, Spidey-Aaron following behind, leaping and jumping like a little cricket. He can be adorable when he wants to be, really.

"Left or right?" Beca calls over her shoulder when they reach the street.

Aaron arrives at her shoulder, and she imagines he's grinning behind his mask. "Well, Jason's house is to the right, and he said his mom bought full-size chocolate bars, so I think we need to start there before they run out."

Beca takes out a phone to check her _Maps_ , showing him her screen. "So, we head down here, round this road, cut through here, back that way, and then wrap right back around like this," she suggests, using her finger to show him her planned route.

"Awesome," he declares, punching a fist in the air, and then taking off, before immediately doubling back. "You're not going to be lame and make me hold your hand, are you?"

"God, no," Beca says, looking horrified. "I have a reputation to uphold."

Aaron snorts in laughter, and then shoots off again. Beca keeps an eye on him as she walks, knowing he's responsible enough not to stray too far away.

There are already other children around, most of them moving in packs, with parents hovering around. There are little guys dressed as _Thor_ and like a thousand little girls dressed as _Elsa_.

Beca prefers _Anna_.

Apparently, she has a thing for redheads.

Aaron stops at a house and glances back at her, silently asking for permission to head up to the door, and she gives it with a slight nod and a small smile. He really is very good, and she wonders if it has anything to do with Sheila and their father, or if it's all just him.

She likes to think it's just him.

Aaron runs back to her with his loot, shoving his bucket in her hands and actual doing a cartwheel. "I just might share with you," he declares, and, Goddammit, she might actually love him.

What a little asshole.

* * *

"You look so cute."

Quinn grumbles to herself as she checks that she has her phone, ID and some money in her shirt pocket.

"Baby, honestly, you make the perfect _Branch_ ," Rachel tells her, squeezing her cheeks. "You've already got the whole grumpiness down to a tee."

"Don't touch me."

Rachel giggles, practically twirling away in her _Poppy_ getup and looking far too happy about the fact her wife has to step out into the streets looking like an idiot - _not the character, no, sorry, Mia, but Mommy just -_

Ugh.

The things Quinn will do for dirty, uninterrupted sex.

She also kind of lost to Rachel at 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', and she's still miffed about it. Why would they let Mia pick the theme for their costumes? Obviously, she was going to pick the characters from _Trolls_. She's a little bit obsessed, and Rachel always blasts _Can't Stop The Feeling_ by Justin Timberlake whenever she's cleaning.

So, now, Quinn is dressed in brown corduroy trousers and a forest green waistcoat over a short-sleeved black t-shirt to represent _Branch_ , and Rachel is dressed in a gorgeous turquoise dress with a similarly-coloured headband to look like _Poppy_ , and Quinn kind of hates that their personalities currently match their characters so well.

Emma is _Tiny Diamond_ , with her huge yellow-tinted glasses; Mia is _DJ Suki_ , looking stupidly adorable with her orange woollen hat and headphones that are way too big for her; and Matty is dressed in a dark blue, furry onesie to look like _Biggie_.

"I think I would have preferred being _Cloud Guy_ ," Quinn says when Rachel returns with Matty in her arms.

"You would be cute, either way," Rachel tells her. "So, I'm thinking I'll take this rat just down the street, just to see the houses, and then we'll come back here and man the house while you take the girls walkabout. Emma has her eyes set on a good haul."

"Competitiveness is in the blood, my love."

Rachel rolls her eyes, kisses Quinn's cheek, and then ducks out of the house with Matty in tow.

Quinn watches them with a stupid smile on her face, certain that she's fallen more in love with her wife in just this moment. She hopes it never stops. She would happily keep falling in love with Rachel for the rest of her life.

When she catches herself, she stops smiling.

 _Branch_ doesn't smile.

* * *

Rachel doesn't have any time to close the door once the kids start moving through their neighbourhood. She knows the rush will be just about an hour, with the neighbourhood agreeing that the entire thing should be over by six-thirty, aiming to get the kids back inside before it gets too dark.

It's exciting, though, seeing all the little costumes the children are dressed in, gushing at how cute they look and handing out way more candy than she and Quinn decided on when they almost cleaned out a full shelf at _Target_ in preparation for tonight.

Rachel definitely would have, but Quinn has always been the more levelheaded one between the two of them. She's sure they would definitely have more than three children if it were a thing they could accomplish without external assistance.

And Halloween definitely isn't helping with her lingering baby fever.

These babies are just so cute, some of them stumbling on their little legs, hands holding onto their parents', while some older ones travel in little groups. She can recognise only a few of them in their costumes, which is why she's caught way off guard when a certain _Spider-Man_ leaps into a certain pose right in front of her and screams, "Hello, Emma's Mom."

Rachel blinks, using her one leg to stop Matty from racing out of the house the way he's been attempting to since the children started ringing the doorbell. "Oh, hello," she says.

"Don't you know who I am?"

" _Spider-Man_ ," Rachel says.

 _Spider-Man_ looks behind him for a moment, and then lifts his mask to show her just a bit of his face. "It's me," he says. "Aaron."

Rachel exaggerates a gasp. "Don't say it too loud," she says. "The villains will hear. And, isn't the entire point of being a superhero that nobody knows your true identity?"

Aaron giggles. "I'm not the real _Spider-Man_ ," he says, as if _she's_ the ridiculous one. Then, he says, "Can I get please a chocolate bar for Beca?"

Rachel just nods, and then hands him an entire handful of candy that he drops into his bucket. "Is she with you?"

He gestures over his shoulder, and Rachel looks past him to spy Beca standing on the sidewalk, her own eyes focused on the phone in her hands. Rachel rolls her eyes at the typical teenage behaviour.

Rachel tells him, "Emma should be somewhere along here with Quinn and Mia. They're dressed like characters from _Trolls_."

Aaron nods quickly as he drops his mask. "Cool, awesome, thank you," he says, and then spins around and practically jumps through the air.

Beca finally looks up, and Rachel waves at her. Beca waves right back, and then points at her own phone, clearly indicating for Rachel to look at hers. She throws Beca a thumbs-up, and then gets distracted by the most adorable little _Princess Leia_.

Goodness, she and Quinn are going to have to have a serious conversation about this.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rachel receives a text, which is basically a picture of Quinn and the girls with Beca and Aaron, the kids all posing in their various ways, and Quinn and Beca just standing there with their arms folded, looking like the impossible grumps they are.

Rachel loves it, and already knows she's setting it as her desktop background.

* * *

Much later, Tom hands Chloe a red cup of some kind of liquid, and she smiles widely at him. "Is this the Tom-Concoction I've been hearing so much about?"

"It's golden," he brags.

Downing it in one go, she feels the burn in her throat, and his eyes go impossibly wide at the display. She knows she'll need a few more drinks to get through this night, but she's determined to have a good time.

So, she tugs on his hand and leads the way to the dance floor.

Right now, all she wants is to _forget_.

* * *

But the end of the night, Emma, Aaron and Chloe are all _very_ successful.

* * *

"Baby, do you want to be the one to tell the kids we ate their candy?" Quinn asks the next morning, rolling over and wrapping arms around Rachel's warm body. She nuzzles into loose brunette hair and breathes deeply, soaking up as much residual heat as she can.

Rachel squirms a little, just stirring under the morning light.

"Because I am all for it," Quinn murmurs. "I will happily do it, in fact. I will get out of this warm bed that holds my gorgeous, sexy wife to go and break our dear children's hearts and delight in filming their reactions."

Rachel chuckles, snuggling into Quinn's body. "Parenting done right," she comments lightly.

"You know it."

* * *

True to his word, Aaron deposits a pile of candy on Beca's bed in the morning. It's clear he's given her all the stuff he actually doesn't like, and then parted with a few he does, and Beca stares at him as if he's this foreign species.

"These are mine?" she asks stupidly, and he looks at her like she _is_ stupid.

"How old are you again?"

"Get out of my room," she huffs, throwing a _Reese's_ cup at him.

"You're welcome," he sing-songs, and then backs out of the room with a cheeky grin.

The little shit.

* * *

Chloe wakes with a hangover, which was intended, sure, but she kind of forgot that Sadie's party was on a Tuesday. Who throws a Halloween party on a Tuesday? Even _if_ it's the correct day.

With a heavy sigh, she rolls out of bed and just about manages not to fall over once she's upright. Her headache blooms, and she stumbles into her bathroom to drink as much water as she's physically capable of handling. It makes her feel a little sick, but at least her head isn't too fuzzy.

She works steadily through the motions of getting herself ready, and then heads down the stairs, not sure what to expect once she enters the kitchen. She can't smell anything or hear any sounds, so it isn't too much of a shock to walk into an empty room.

Well.

There is a note on the kitchen island, and Chloe barely has to read it to know her parents are probably out of town again. Somewhere. Avoiding this house.

Avoiding _her_.

* * *

Beca is nibbling on a _Twizzler_ at her locker when Chloe sidles up to her the next day, two cups of coffee in her hands. She'll deny it to her last breath, but Beca almost jumps a foot in the air, and Chloe laughs at her reaction.

"Thought you might like some coffee," Chloe says, handing her a fresh cup from the Lima Bean. "I stopped by on my way in to school, and I thought of you."

Beca takes it with a hint of suspicion. "Why?" she asks.

"What?"

"Why are you giving me this?" Beca asks. "You've barely looked at me for more than a few seconds like the whole month, and now you're buying me coffee. What happened? Something changed."

Chloe blinks, clearly caught off guard by Beca's bluntness. It's really her downfall, sometimes. "I don't know," Chloe eventually says. "I guess I just stopped overthinking things, and I'm sorry I've been so flaky. I just - I have a lot going on, but I really want to make it up to you, if you'll let me."

Beca knows she shouldn't give in so easily. She _knows_ , dammit, but there is a pretty girl standing in front of her, pleading for a chance with the kind of blue eyes that should be illegal, and Beca is gay and weak.

Beca exaggerates a sigh and says, "What did you have in mind?" which garners a happy little squeal from Chloe.

Totally worth it.

* * *

Rachel can't really put her finger on it, but something is decidedly different when she steps into the Choir Room for Bellas' rehearsals. She studies the faces of her members, internally smiling at the obvious lingering tiredness the week has brought upon, but it's the fact Beca is sitting right in front _next to Chloe Beale_ that clues her in to… something.

Rachel meets Beca's gaze, and the girl flushes a dark red.

Oh.

Well, okay, then.

Rachel smiles to herself as she prepares to begin the lesson, feeling inexplicably giddy. Is Beca's crush Chloe? Isn't that something? Rachel's instinct is to confess her suspicions to Quinn, but she knows she won't. Beca hasn't confirmed anything, and Rachel wants to offer her the courtesy of revealing parts of herself at her own pace.

It doesn't help that Chloe raises her hand and says she and Beca have a mashup they'd like to perform, because Rachel is positively delighted by this turn of events. Her own smile is blinding, and Chloe actually blinks at her before she and Beca step to the front of the room and dive right into a mashup of Bruno Mars and Nelly, that has the rest of the group joining in after a few bars.

It's magical, the sound they end up making, and Rachel feels her heart expand in her chest as the music fills the room. They have a full roster, and they have such talented girls, and now they have _something_ that could really see them win this entire thing.

When the mashup comes to an end, there's an actual beat of surprised silence; as if they don't believe they sound so good.

Then there's a burst of cheering, and Rachel knows it.

She knows they've found their sound.

* * *

Beca expects Rachel to ask about Chloe, so she's actually surprised when she doesn't. Instead, Rachel asks the two of them about the mashup. Beca takes out her phone to play it for her, and then Rachel spends the next few minutes talking about how they can work it for their upcoming Sectionals.

"Bec, can you please send that to me?" Rachel says, a little distractedly as she scribbles down some notes. "We'll look at it tonight."

Beca already sends it off, missing the curious look Chloe sends her. Because, seriously, why would Beca have Rachel's personal phone number? "I was thinking we could definitely incorporate Lilly's beatboxing into the Nelly parts," Beca says, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the piano. "It's sick."

Rachel smiles at her. "Great minds, my little genius," she tells her, and Beca blushes.

 _God, don't embarrass her in front of Chloe_.

Rachel winks, and then goes back to scribbling a few notes. "I think we could probably get something together by Friday," she says. "Maybe we can start rehearsing, and then we can figure out any other songs for our set. I don't really see an outlying soloist at this point."

"We can't all be Rachel Berry," Beca jokes.

"It is unfortunate, isn't it?" Rachel says with a lofty sigh.

Still, Chloe looks between them in fascinated confusion. Or confused fascination. One of the two.

Rachel waves a hand at them. "Now, you two, get out of here," she says. "You have much better things to do than hang around with your stuffy old teacher, and I have a grocery list a mile long to get before dinner."

"What's on the menu?" Beca asks, already moving back to grab her bag from where she left it at the foot of her chair.

"Who knows?" Rachel says, reaching for her phone and opening her Notes app. "The list leans towards some kind of pasta concoction, but it's really what the kids feel like, at this point."

"As it should be," Beca jokes.

"Out of here," Rachel says with a laugh. "Give my best to Aaron."

Beca shoots her a smile, and then looks at Chloe, whose own expression just makes Beca's smile grow. "You headed out?" Beca asks her.

Chloe takes a moment to register the question, and then she laughs softly. "Yeah, yeah, okay," she says, and then retrieves her own bag, bids farewell to Rachel, and then follows after Beca.

* * *

Chloe thinks she waits a respectable nine seconds after they leave the Choir Room to asks, "What on earth was that?"

Beca glances at her. "Excuse me?"

Chloe doesn't think she even knows how to put her question into words. "You and Dr B," she starts; "you just seem… familiar."

"Well, yeah," Beca answers, and she may as well be saying _duh_ with her tone. "Her daughter and my brother play on the same soccer team."

"You have a brother?" Chloe blurts, as if that's the most important takeaway here.

"Half-brother, technically," Beca says, her steps slowing as they round a corner. "My parents got divorced when I was six." She pauses. "I think, at least. I could have been five. It was definitely around that time, though. I don't really remember much beyond the fact my dad was just gone one day, and, yeah."

Chloe, frankly, isn't sure how to respond to that. The way Beca shrugs, as if it hasn't affected her, makes Chloe think it's _really_ affected her, and her heart breaks for her. Though, Chloe knows Beca wouldn't want any kind of pity or even sympathy. Maybe some understanding.

"Do you have any siblings?" Beca asks, a little too casual, as if she wants to change the subject.

Well.

Chloe breathes deeply, and then says, "I did," in a soft voice. "He, um, he died earlier this year."

Beca's steps falter, but she manages to say, "Oh, I'm sorry, Chloe."

There's something very particular in her voice that Chloe realises isn't pity. Or sympathy. The same way she doesn't want it; she's not going to give it. It's rather understanding, as if she's suffered a similar loss, and Chloe aches for some kind of shared pain.

"A lot of things about my life have changed because of it," Chloe says, her brow creased. "I think… even _I've_ changed."

"Trauma will do that to you," Beca says, almost too quietly. "Grief is… well, my grandmother says that it's its own demanding beast, which I never quite understood until I just did."

There it is again, and Chloe desperately wants to reach out and touch her; just because, but Beca steps towards her own locker when they reach it, making quick work of the lock and retrieving her books for the upcoming weekend, all while Chloe continually agonises over her next move.

"We can head to yours," Beca says once she's done. "Unless you're not yet going home?"

Chloe shrugs. "It's not like anyone would notice," she mutters, and Beca raises her eyebrows in question. "A lot of things have changed," is the explanation she gives.

Beca's expression shifts through several emotions, before it settles on something unreadable. "I know you're probably super busy and, I don't know, have like a million friends, but, uh, you can text me whenever…" she trails off. "Or call, if you want, whenever - just, if you just need to talk. Or whatever."

Chloe can't help her own smile at the way Beca physically cringes at herself. "Thanks, Bec," she says, which makes the most delightful blush bloom across Beca's cheeks.

Well, isn't that the damnest thing?

She has a teasing remark on the tip of her tongue, but they round another corner, and, suddenly, Aubrey is barking, "Chloe!" at her in a very familiar, impatient way, and Chloe feels her mood evaporate.

Oh, right, of course.

Beca's own expression hardens for some reason, and Chloe just knows there's something very particular that's happened between Beca and her best friend. She has questions, of course, but she doubts either girl will answer them.

It's awkward as she and Beca approach where Aubrey is clearly waiting for her at her locker, and Chloe wishes this moment wasn't happening. She's just managed to build up… something with Beca, and now -

"Can we talk?" Aubrey demands, tone brisk, and Chloe sighs internally. "Privately."

Beca glances between them, and then says, "I should probably get going, anyway," as if she's asking Chloe a question.

"Yes, you should," Aubrey snaps.

"Aubrey," Chloe says, aghast. "Stop being so rude." She turns towards Beca. "Sorry about her," she says, expression set in a heavy frown. "But, uh, thanks for, you know, all of that, and I hope you have a good weekend."

Beca smiles at her, and it is both hesitant and beautiful. "Yeah, you too, Chlo," she says. "And, remember what I said."

"Definitely."

Beca does an awkward but totally cute little salute, and then ducks around her and disappears down the corridor. Chloe forces herself not to watch her go, even though she desperately wants to, because, well, Aubrey.

"What the hell was that?" said girl hisses as soon as Beca is out of earshot.

Chloe just sighs as she opens her locker. "What was what?"

"Are you and _Wednesday Addams_ best friends now?"

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Wow," she murmurs. "How long have you been sitting on that one?"

Aubrey just stares at her.

"I don't see what the problem is, Bree," she says, shuffling through her books for what she needs. "She's new to the school and new to the Bellas. I'm just being Chloe." She smiles to herself. "The real Chloe."

Aubrey's scowl turns into a look of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chloe shrugs. "She seems cool," she says. "I like her. She's not replacing you as my best friend, or whatever crazy theory you've got rolling around that pretty blonde head of yours, okay? So, can you, like, cool your jets and stop being so… _Aubrey_ for a minute?"

Aubrey huffs, but her features do relax.

"Now, which questions did Mr Wilson say we need to do again?"


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

"Sweets," Quinn says, getting Emma's attention. "Can you come here a minute? Mama and I want to talk to you about something."

Emma, predictably, looks a little green with worry, but she eventually abandons the television remote and gets to her feet. Quinn smiles at her, which seems to ease some of her worry, and she leans into the hand Quinn places on her shoulder.

"You're not in trouble," Quinn assures her. "I promise. We just have an adult thing to discuss with you."

Emma just nods, dutifully letting Quinn guide her to her own bedroom. Quinn and Rachel debated over which room to use for this conversation, and ultimately decided on one that Emma would be most comfortable in. Rachel is already sitting on the edge of Emma's bed when they arrive, and Emma skips a little to sit beside her.

Rachel smiles happily, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "You okay?"

"Mommy says I'm not in trouble," Emma says.

"Not even a little bit," Rachel assures her. "You're perfect, my love."

Quinn coughs loudly, which makes Emma giggle. Quinn drags Emma's desk chair to sit in front of her wife and daughter, and visibly attempts to ease her muscles. She doesn't want Emma to sense just how uncomfortable she is with this topic of conversation.

"Em," Quinn starts when Emma looks expectantly at her. "Mommy has to tell you something, okay? It's - it's not something easy for me, so I need you to be patient. Can you do that?"

Emma nods.

"I promise I'll answer any questions you have once I'm done," Quinn says, and then audibly swallows. "Do you remember when you were at the store with Mama, and that woman tried to talk to you?"

Emma glances at Rachel for a moment, and then turns her attention back to Quinn. "She said I looked like you."

Quinn nods. "Well, that's because you do," she teases lightly, and then immediately sobers. "That woman is my mother."

Emma's eyes widen.

"Your grandmother," Quinn says. "I know we haven't spoken about my parents with you before, and it's something your Mama and I have tried to protect you from, but we think you're old enough to know just why the first time you met was as strangers."

So, Quinn explains, as child-friendly as she possibly can, that her own mother rejected her when she revealed that she preferred women. She loved _Rachel_ , and there was no way she could possibly deny her true self a second longer. Quinn explains to Emma that it was unlikely Judy -

"Her name is Judy?" Emma suddenly asks, and Quinn offers her a smile.

"Her name is Judy," Quinn confirms. "In New York, we didn't have to worry about possibly bumping into her, but Lima is different, and it's something your Mama and I have prepared for. Judy, she seems… interested in knowing you."

Emma frowns. "Just me?"

"Well, I assume your brother and your sister, as well, but we haven't exactly discussed anything with her," Quinn answers.

"No," Emma says; "I mean, what about you?"

Quinn blinks, seemingly confused. "What about me?"

"Is she interested in knowing _you_?" Emma asks.

"I - I - " Quinn struggles, clearly caught off guard.

Rachel smooths a hand over Emma's hair and says, "I don't think so, honey." Her gaze meets Quinn's, only briefly. "Mommy's mother isn't… accepting."

"Then, why would she want to know _me_?" Emma asks, clearly confused.

"I suppose that's something we could ask her," Quinn manages to say. "Nothing is set in stone. We still need to talk to her and find out… what she wants, but we thought it was important for you to know about her, in case we bump into her again."

"Okay," Emma says, but she still sounds unsure. Her facial expression shifts a beat later and settles into something Quinn recognises as one of her very own. "I - I don't want to talk to her unless she accepts you and Ma," Emma says. "You won't make me, right?"

"Of course not," Quinn immediately says. "We would never force you to do something you don't want to."

"Except eat your vegetables," Rachel adds a beat later, and all three of them descend into a fit of giggles.

* * *

After, once all the children are asleep, Quinn asks, "So, how exactly are we supposed to go about this?"

Rachel threads her fingers through Quinn's hair and kisses her cheek. "I have no idea, but I have no doubt we'll figure it out."

* * *

It turns out that there's little Quinn even has to do, because Judy shows up to Emma's next game, The Beansprouts versus The Cauliflowers. She arrives alone, but she makes no move to approach them. The entire thing unsettles Quinn, and she just knows she won't be able to take those first steps herself.

She can tell she's worrying Rachel with her indecision and, fuck, her hands are actually trembling. "I'm supposed to be okay," Quinn tells her when Rachel holds onto her hand while they're supposed to be focused on the game in front of them. "I've worked _years_ to be okay."

Rachel just rests her head on Quinn's shoulder, and Quinn knows she can probably feel the tension in her body.

Maria leans over towards them, Matty once again comfortably sitting in her lap. "Not that I'm not used to people staring at you two supermodels, but why is Judy practically glaring?"

Quinn blinks slowly. "You know her?"

Maria nods. "Her grandson plays on Val's team," she explains. "They're both looking to make it to Varsity next year." She pauses. "Do you know her?"

Quinn licks her lips. "What surname does she use?"

"Spencer," Maria says. "I've only recently met her, but her grandson is Nick Grayson."

"Grayson," Quinn repeats. "His father is AJ Grayson?"

"That's the one," Maria says. "Do you know him?"

"I met him once," Quinn tells her. "A long time ago." She keeps her eyes on Maria. "Do you think you could tell me more about them?"

If Maria senses something melancholic in Quinn's tone, she doesn't mention it. "Well, Judy's retired, as far as I know," she explains. "Lives with her daughter, Frannie, who works as a freelance lawyer out of her home office. I know Matilda over there went to her when she was filing for divorce. AJ runs a chain of car dealerships, here, in Akron, and in Toledo. They have four children, as far as I'm aware. The oldest, Drew, is at college somewhere, then they have Lucy, who is a Senior in high school, Nick a Sophomore, and little Daniel who is Emma and Christina's age."

Quinn feels Rachel's grip tighten on her hand.

"That still doesn't answer the question as to why Judy is _still_ staring at you, though," Maria points out, but Quinn is saved from a response by Aaron scoring a goal. It's a low drive with his right foot, and Quinn gets to her feet to applaud his effort.

It is - _God_ \- it is both the best and worst thing that the boy looks at _her_ in celebration before he looks at either of his parents.

* * *

Beca thinks she might actually feel sorry for David and Sheila if they weren't actually terrible people. She _knows_ Aaron doesn't do it to be malicious. She doesn't even think he's conscious of the fact he looks Quinn's way first, seeking some kind of approval from a fellow soccer enthusiast he seems to admire, but she just knows there's going to be undeniable tension when they leave the game.

Sometimes, Beca wishes she were wrong about things.

At least the adults wait until the four of them have filed into the car, Aaron glowing after the goal he scored and the praise Quinn showered on him after the final whistle. He's practically vibrating in his seat, and Beca feels for him, because she just knows his excitement is going to be cut short.

Again, Beca isn't wrong, and the sharpness in her father's tone is cutting. Aaron frowns when David starts telling him he can't spend time with Emma or her mothers; that he won't be allowed to.

"Why?" Aaron asks. "What's so wrong with them? They're so good at soccer. I just want to get better, and both of you know nothing about it."

"We'll get you extra coaching, if that's the case," Sheila dismisses, and Aaron kicks the back of her seat in frustration. "Aaron!" Sheila hisses.

"This isn't fair," he says, and he sounds petulant, but also older than he usually does. "You're just homophobic."

Sheila gasps. "Where did you learn that word?" she asks, and then turns accusing eyes on Beca. "Did you teach it to him? David, I told you - "

"I learned it at school!" Aaron explodes. "Emma's in my class, and she asked Miss Newton what it's called when parents don't accept their children if they're gay, and she explained it to her."

Instead of responding to what Aaron has just told her, Shelia turns to David and says, "We're getting him moved out of that class."

Both Beca and Aaron groan in unison, and Shelia shoots them both sharp looks.

"What?" Beca asks. "Are you even going to _deny_ you're homophobic?"

Sheila says nothing, turning back to face the front again and grumbling under her breath.

Beca sighs, and then offers Aaron her fist to bump.

He shoots her a smile, and then meets her knuckles with his own.

Maybe not everyone in this family is doomed.

* * *

"I can talk to her," Rachel offers when Judy remains long after Quinn has spent twenty minutes running over a few things with Emma, Christina and Steph, who are both going to be joining them for pizza and ice cream.

Quinn takes a sip of her water, a little sweaty after chasing three nine-year-olds. Rachel can't help the desire that flares within her, eyes trained on Quinn's gorgeous neck as she swallows. "No," Quinn finally says. "Not today."

Rachel won't question her, but she has to point out, "Putting it off won't make it any easier."

"I'm not ready," Quinn says, and her voice is detached. "Not today."

"Okay," Rachel agrees, running her fingers along Quinn's arm. "Okay."

Quinn breathes out slowly. "Thank you," she says. "And, I think the girls are just about ready to go. I think, later, I'm going to work with Christina on her defending. She's a better reader of the play than a creator, and I think she'll benefit from it."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Shut up with your soccer speak," she says, and then visibly pauses. "It's kinda making me hot."

Quinn laughs, and then kisses her cheek, seemingly unafraid to show that much affection in front of an empty field - and Judy. "I love you."

"As you should."

* * *

"Chloe," Aubrey says, an unfamiliar groan in her voice. "Do you think you could kidnap me for _all_ of Thanksgiving?"

Chloe just laughs as she picks a salad from the selection of food in the cafeteria. "Why am I kidnapping you?" she asks. "Is this another rescue mission from your father?"

Aubrey drops her head onto Chloe's shoulder, sounding uncharacteristically whiny when she says, "My father called last night to relay the plans for the holiday. I kind of want to burn my own eyes or do something equally drastic."

"Please don't do that," Chloe says, grabbing a box of milk for each of them. "You need the calcium," she says when Aubrey shoots her a look. "It's never too late to stave off the osteoporosis."

Aubrey stares at her. "Excuse me?"

Chloe laughs. "My grandmother has osteoporosis," Chloe tells her. "Well, that's what my mother says, anyway, after my parents visited her."

Aubrey lifts her head. "This weekend?"

Chloe resists the urge to say _every weekend_ , and just shrugs. "She's not doing well," is what she ends up saying. "I think my mother thinks this'll be her last Thanksgiving."

"Oh, Chlo," Aubrey murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

Chloe just shuffles along, unsure how to respond. She knows the possibility is true, but there's a part of her that thinks her parents are just using the woman as an excuse to stay out of the house for long periods of time.

Obviously, she doesn't blame them for that much, because even she wouldn't want to be in a house that holds so many memories of Patrick. In a house where he -

Just, she gets it.

Except that she wishes they would just take her with them sometimes.

"Is that where you're going to be for Thanksgiving?" Aubrey asks. "Your grandmother is in Columbus, right?"

Chloe nods. "There's a home there," she explains. "They take very good care of her."

"I'm sure they do," Aubrey says, quiet and a little sombre.

Chloe clears her throat. "So, how about we do something on Black Friday?" she suggests. "I remember you said there was that _Burberry_ coat you were eyeing."

Aubrey laughs. "Black Friday is going to be war zone," she says; "And I am all for it."

* * *

Quinn warns her Squad there's going to be an increase in the intensity of their practices, given their approaching Sectionals' tournament. She spots a few aghast expressions, because, yes, it _can_ get worse, and she's about to show them.

She spent the previous evening walking through her proposed routines over _Skype_ with Brittany and Santana. The Squad has already been working on a few of the individual elements, and now Quinn needs to piece it together while making the transitions look seamless. This first competition is going to be the first test, truly. She may have won the Title as an actual cheerleader, but she's a coach now, and it's a different kind of pressure.

"Any questions?" Quinn asks, and a dozen hands shoot up. She looks over the group of them, wondering if she should even be wasting time with answering questions when her word is golden in this house.

Quinn breathes out slowly.

It wouldn't hurt.

She _is_ going to be announcing an early Monday practice, anyway, so she may as well give them this moment.

She's not _that_ evil.

* * *

"She's evil," Aubrey complains, and Chloe can't help her laugh. "Like, certifiably evil. We already practice three times a week, and one of those is on a _Saturday_ , Chloe. A Saturday."

Chloe just watches as Dr Fabray finishes with her own stretches, before she gets to her feet and deposits her own mat in the equipment room. "It's just an hour," Chloe tells Aubrey, eyes still tracking Dr Fabray. "And it's just until Sectionals."

"I'm exhausted just thinking about it," Aubrey complains, stretching out her calves.

"You're being extra prickly," Chloe points out. "Is it your father?"

"I'm just stressed, is all," Aubrey says, holding her toes and extending her Achilles tendon. "With this, exams and the Bellas' Sectionals coming up. It's all just a lot."

"Which means Thanksgiving Break really is arriving at the perfect time," Chloe points out. "We can catch up on some sleep."

"Or homework."

Chloe pinches her shin. "Shut up."

Aubrey just laughs, and then startles when Dr Fabray calls out a farewell and disappears from the gym with a quick wave back at the last remaining cheerleaders. "Why does she always rush out of here on Saturdays?" Aubrey asks, watching after her.

Chloe doesn't think when she says, "Her daughter has her soccer games at ten-thirty."

Aubrey glances at her. "How do you even know that?"

Chloe shrugs. "She mentioned it once," she answers vaguely. "We should be lucky she has to go, at all, because, apparently Sue Sylvester made them work until noon."

Aubrey's eyes widen. "Okay," she relents. "So, maybe she's not so evil."

* * *

Judy isn't at Emma's game that day, and Rachel can't tell if Quinn is relieved or disappointed. Rachel watches as she scans the area with a quick turn of her head, and then she directs her attention to the field where the game is about to begin.

Rachel shifts closer to Maria, watching as Matty automatically climbs into her lap and just sits there, his little hands playing with Maria's fingers. Rachel can tell the woman is affected, deeply, and she resists the urge to tease her about it. Instead, she asks, "Do you guys have anything special planned for Thanksgiving?"

Maria winces for a beat, and then forces a smile. "Joe has a… large family," she explains. "We usually spend our holidays at his parents' house just outside of Cincinnati."

"A lot of people?"

"He has five siblings," Maria says; "And they each have spouses and armies of children, and there's extended family and family friends, and it turns into quite the spectacle."

Rachel smiles sympathetically. "Who does the cooking?"

"All the women, generally," she says. "I'm more of a dessert person, anyway, so I make quite a few beforehand, and then we travel with them."

"You'll have to share some recipes," Rachel says; "unless they're all top secret family ones."

"Not even," Maria says with a laugh. "It's all just things I've picked up over the years. There's little else to do when you're a stay-at-home mother and your kids are in school and sports all day."

Rachel wouldn't know about that, but Maria doesn't seem all that unhappy about that aspect of her life.

"What are you two doing?"

Rachel brightens. "We're hosting our first one in our new house," she says. "Quinn is cooking, mainly, with Beth's help, because I usually just get in the way."

"Beth?"

Rachel hesitates. She _wants_ Maria to know them, but it's just simpler to say, "My adopted sister," which still makes her cringe, but that's a story for another day. "She's flying in from New Haven for the Break. I think Quinn is going to try to talk some sense into her."

"Why do you say that?"

"Beth is… maybe too much like her biological father," Rachel explains. "A little wayward. She doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, and she's supposed to be graduating from Law School soon, but she's making no plans for after."

Maria chuckles. "Kids, huh?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Adding stress and love to our lives," she says. "But, yes, Beth will be here, and my parents, which is a bit exciting, I'm not going to lie. That's it, really. We don't have a lot of tradition, unfortunately, but I'm looking forward to establishing some."

"My family was like that," Maria says. "Growing up, we just had an extra special dinner on Thursday, and that was that. It's probably why I find Joe's family so overwhelming."

"That makes sense," Rachel says, her attention switching when Quinn claps her hands and says, "Go, Emma!"

The game is starting, and Rachel dutifully sits through at least the first ten minutes with her full attention until it wanes, and she and Maria strike up conversation again. She appreciates that she and Quinn have managed to make this new friend, who seems a little lonely, herself. And there's Steph's mother, who is young and single and working as an Occupational Therapist. She's rarely able to make it to any practices, and could only get time off for the Beansprouts' first game.

Quinn spotted that Steph was usually here alone until her older cousin could pick her up after the girl was finished with her own school obligations, and has since taken the midfielder under her wing. Quinn seems to have an endless amount of space under there, willingly spreading herself, and Rachel loves her so damn much.

It helps that Quinn makes sure she remains tucked into her side.

* * *

It's after halftime that the first goal comes, courtesy of a pass from Aaron that Emma steps over, basically dummying the defenders and allowing Phillip to tap it into the back of the net. It's honestly a perfect goal, and Quinn can't explain how proud she is of Emma's foresight, approach and selflessness.

Quinn can admit she was a bit of a selfish forward from time to time, but Emma seems to have escaped that gene. It's probably Rachel's influence, she thinks, but then gets rid of that thought just as quickly, because Rachel is sometimes worse than her.

Anyway, Quinn is on her feet, Mia glued to her side as they clap and cheer together. "Nice work, Em," Quinn shouts over the noise.

"Nice work, Em," Mia copies her, and Quinn feels her heart expand in her chest. A few parents even turn to smile at Mia, and, yip, Quinn is hopeless.

Quinn takes a tiny step forward to where Emma is getting some water while they get set up for the restart after the goal. "Sweets," Quinn says; "Go down the right. Those defenders can't handle you."

Emma grins at her. "Nobody can handle me, Mom."

"Nobody can handle her, Mom," Mia echoes, and Quinn knows she's in trouble.

"Just go right," Quinn calls out, and, seven minutes later, Emma goes right, dribbles easily past the defenders, and slots the ball home through the goalkeeper's legs. Quinn shouldn't feel smug, but she does. She's proud, too. That's her daughter.

Mia tugs on her hand and Quinn looks down. "What's up, Princess?"

Mia's brow creases for a moment. "Do you think I can be as good at karate?"

Quinn blinks. "As good as Emma is at soccer?"

Mia nods.

"I think so," Quinn tells her. "You'll have to work hard. But, you know that you don't have to keep doing it if you don't like it. Mama and I just want you to try it out, but you don't have to stay if it's not fun, okay?"

Mia nods again, her expression serious. "Okay," she finally declares. "I want to try."

Quinn kisses the top of Mia's head.

How did she get so lucky?

* * *

The only reason Beca would ever leave her bedroom door open is to _hear_ if anyone is approaching on the landing or to make sure Aaron knows he can visit her, even on Thanksgiving morning. So, when her father makes an appearance, she deeply regrets not keeping her door tightly shut. And locked.

David knocks on the doorframe, and then steps into the room without waiting for a signal either way. Beca just holds back her scowl, because revealing her irritation is just going to make this more difficult. She needs it to be over quickly.

Beca is sitting at her desk working on a mashup, so he moves to perch on the end of her bed, his expression serious. She could probably guess what this is going to be about, but it still surprises her when he says, "We're going to be having Thanksgiving Dinner with Sheila's family."

Beca blinks. "Okay…"

David looks to the left for a moment, and Beca suddenly figures it out.

"Oh," she breathes. "They don't know I exist."

David winces. "It just - it was never something that came up," he attempts to defend.

"I wonder why that is," Beca snarks, and then shakes her head. She can't even tell if she's all that surprised. Is she even angry? Heartbroken? "It's fine. Whatever. I'll just spend it here, and you can go off and play happy, perfect family."

"Beca," he breathes, frowning. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Then, what are you saying?" Beca presses. "Why would you even tell me that?"

"You're still coming to dinner," David insists, and then he looks away again.

Beca laughs, dark and in disbelief. "But not as your daughter," she guesses. "Wow, Dad," she says. "Am I supposed to call you Uncle David?"

He winces. "It's complicated," he says. "Sheila's family, they don't believe in divorce, and we - to get married in the church - there was - your mother - look, I had to get the marriage - "

And, Beca laughs again, this time a lot sarcastic. "So, what, I truly am a bastard now?"

"Beca."

"They don't believe in divorce," Beca accuses; "but what are their thoughts on adultery, huh, Uncle David? I'm certain they don't look too lightly on that particular sin."

"Beca."

"Get out of my room," she suddenly snaps. "Just get out."

"Beca, you have to understand - "

"What I understand," she hisses; "is that I am literally the biggest inconvenience on your life, and I shall endeavour to make it easier for you, okay? Here. I'll start right now. Don't worry about what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, okay? Just go out there with your perfect family, and we can all just pretend I don't exist."

"Beca."

"We're done."

"Beca."

"Get out!" she screams, and he reels back. "Get out, get out, get out!"

And, mercifully, he does, Beca just managing to slam the door behind him before she bursts into tears.

* * *

Rachel is just putting the finishing touches on brunch, Emma stacking the pancakes - _it has to be done properly, Ma_ \- while they wait for Quinn to get home with Beth, when she receives the call. She sees Beca's name on her Caller ID and feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

"Sweets, please put that on the table when you're done," she instructs Emma, and then reaches to answer the phone. "Hel - " is all she manages to say before the sound of a sob freezes every muscle in her body. "Beca? Beca, honey, what's wrong?"

"Ra - chel," Beca chokes out, hiccuping in the centre of her name.

"Hey, hey," Rachel tries to soothe, her own eyes wide and her heart beating too fast. "What's happening? Are you okay?"

"I can't - " Beca struggles. "He said - I'm not - why - "

"Hey, Bec," she says softly. "Breathe for me, okay. Just breathe. In through your nose, one two three, and then out through your mouth. Nice and slowly. Repeat. There we go. Once more."

"Rachel," Beca says, and she sounds so, so young.

"I'm here," Rachel assures her. "I'm right here." She glances at Emma, who is wearing her own look of concern. Rachel waves her over and kisses the top of her head, an arm around her shoulders. She ducks her head a little to whisper, "Beca's a little sad at the moment. Do you think you could keep your brother and sister company until Mommy gets home?"

Emma nods, and then says, "Please will you tell her that Christina and I think she's cool?"

"Of course, Baby," Rachel says, marvelling at just how lucky she is to have ended up with children so great. She waits until Emma has left the kitchen area to return her full attention to Beca, who is still just breathing steadily. "Bec?"

"I'm here," Beca says, and her voice squeaks. "I'm breathing."

"Keep doing that," Rachel tells her. "And, whenever you feel ready, we can talk about what has you in this state, okay?"

"Okay."

"Until then, I'm going to tell you about the little run Quinn thought would be cool to include in our mashup," Rachel says. "It's just after Cynthia-Rose comes in during the second ch - "

"I hate it here."

Rachel's breath catches. "Oh, Beca."

"He - he doesn't even - he doesn't even _want_ me, Rachel," Beca grits out. "I don't - I thought - I was supposed to - "

"Beca."

"My grandmother's too old," Beca says. "She's too old, and she can't look after me full-time, and my mom doesn't have any siblings in the country, and why wouldn't I go and live with my _father_ , right? The courts like to keep children with their parents as much as possible, and it just made so much sense, but, God, he doesn't even want me."

Rachel closes her eyes, because, God, she knows what it's like to know a parent doesn't want you.

"I hate it here," Beca says again, and Rachel can hear that she's only fifteen years old, lost and feeling alone in this foreign place. "I hate it. I hate it. I just want to go home." She's crying again. "I want to go home, and I want my bed and I want - I just want my mom."

Rachel feels her own eyes pool with tears, and she hates that she can't seem to figure out what to do to make it better.

Well.

She's not sure what possesses her to do it, but she starts to sing. Low and just loud enough for Beca to hear through her own tears. It's a lullaby LeRoy used to sing to her when she was Mia's age, but it feels appropriate.

She sings and she sings, and Beca cries and cries.

Until there are no sounds at all.

* * *

Quinn can feel the change in atmosphere as she pushes her way into the house, Beth chattering away behind her. They've covered an entire myriad of topics already, Beth always unable to stick to one subject when she first sees Quinn. Even though they talk quite regularly, it always feels as if she has to divulge every little thing that's happened in her life since they last saw each other.

Quinn loves it.

"And then I had to drive Rob, Tom and Rhett all over to - " Beth stops when Quinn stops right in the doorway, her own eyes a little wide. "Quinn," Beth murmurs. "Did you get another kid?"

"Apparently," Quinn murmurs, finally moving into the house, and then closing the door behind Beth. She's still a little confused as to what is happening, exactly, but she's certain her eyes aren't deceiving her. Rachel is sitting on their couch with Matty in her lap, Mia and Emma spread out on the floor watching television, and Beca is beside her.

Huh.

Rachel's eyes widen when she spots Quinn, and then get comically larger at the sight of Beth. She hastily drops Matty into Beca's lap, and then scrambles to her feet, moving towards Quinn and Beth. "I can explain," she murmurs to Quinn, and then tugs Beth into a hard hug. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," she whispers.

"It's not my fault you guys moved like a billion hours away, instead of two," Beth quips, allowing the hug to happen.

Quinn swats her arm. "Shut up," she says, and then calls out, "Kids, Beth's here."

There's a beat of silence, and then Emma and Mia are on their feet and practically sprinting towards Beth, both of them throwing themselves at Beth's frame, seemingly with the intention of knocking her over.

They almost succeed.

Matty comes scurrying along behind them, and Beth swoops down to pick him up, groaning at the weight of him.

"What on earth are your moms feeding you, huh?" Beth questions, holding him against her hip and grinning at Matty's happy smile. "You're so big now. Gosh, look at all those teeth."

Quinn notices Beca's approach, her shoulders a little slumped, looking all the more out place. It's as if she's ready to be regarded as invisible, and Quinn won't stand for such a thing. She waves her arm, urging Beca closer. "Beca, this is Beth," she introduces. "Beth, this is Beca, currently my favourite brunette."

Rachel pokes her abdomen. "Hey!"

Beca lifts her head and manages a smile at Beth. "Hi," she says, and then furrows her brow. "Beth, as in Elizabeth? Like, on your tattoo?"

Beth groans, bending to set Matty on the floor when he squirms. "I hate that you used that God awful name," she complains. "Couldn't have used _Beth_ , which is what everyone has called me since before you even pushed me out of your body."

Quinn stiffens, Rachel gasps, and Beca's frown deepens.

Beth doesn't seem to notice, because Mia reaches for her hand and starts to lead her away, already ready to show off her newest _Lego_ masterpiece. Emma follows as well, bouncing with every step, and Matty follows the motion, his hands clapping as all of Quinn's children disappear into the living area, leaving Quinn with Rachel and Beca.

"Rachel," she starts. "I told myself I wouldn't ever have to ask this question, but I see no choice right now." She pauses. "Rachel Berry, did you kidnap Beca?"

There is a moment of stunned silence, and then both Beca and Rachel burst out laughing, Quinn just looking between them and hoping she's not an unwitting accomplice to a felony. Kidnapping is federal jurisdiction, as far as Quinn is aware.

Though, for someone who's been kidnapped, Beca looks surprisingly calm.

"No kidnapping has occurred here," Rachel assures her, reaching up to press a kiss to her cheek. "Beca's staying for dinner."

Quinn has _so many_ questions, but Beca beats her to it by asking, "Beth?"

Quinn blinks. "Oh, yes, I gave birth to her when I was sixteen and gave her up for adoption."

"And then she was adopted by my surrogate mother," Rachel adds.

Beca looks between them. "Wait, what?"

Rachel claps her hands, and calls out, "Who's hungry?"

* * *

Beca fully expects not to fit in, but she's extremely mistaken. She thought she would feel like a complete stranger, but that isn't the case in the slightest. Quinn makes sure to include her in conversation, and Rachel teases her about their respective heights. Beth even takes an interest in her music, revealing an impressive amount of knowledge herself.

"When you grow up with Shelby and Rachel, you kind of have no choice," she answers Beca's curious look.

Right. That.

Quinn is Beth's biological daughter, who was adopted by Rachel's biological mother.

Totally trippy.

After brunch, Quinn divides them into teams to tackle all the cooking ahead. Beca gets put on cleanup with Emma while Quinn and Beth start on the actual cooking. Rachel is in charge of decorating, setting the table and playing music, all with Mia and Matty in tow.

It actually works out quite well, and Beca is allowed to marvel at this family, all of them singing along to the music at the tops of their lungs, heads thrown back with laughter and hands casually reaching out to touch.

Quinn even made a move to drop a kiss to Beca's head before she caught herself, blushed, and then moved on. Rachel squeezes her biceps whenever she moves past, and Beth has hip-checked her twice already. It's really the most affection Beca has received in a long, long time, and she never really realised she was so starved of it.

At around four o'clock, Rachel's parents arrive, both men Beca doesn't quite expect. Rachel pulls her aside to explain that her father, LeRoy, has Alzheimers, and it's likely he'll end up saying some things that could be out of place or confusing. She explains that he has some good days, and her other father, Hiram, seems optimistic about this particular day.

With good reason, apparently.

Beca can barely handle witnessing the childlike excitement on Rachel's face when LeRoy reaches out for her and says, "My Little Star," with all the reverence in the world. Beca feels an arm slide across her shoulders, and Quinn is there, looking a little emotional herself.

"Come help me with the roasted vegetables," she instructs gently, and Beca sees it for what it is when they end up being the only two people in the kitchen. Quinn doesn't even waste a moment before she asks, "Do I have to beat up someone?"

Beca laughs softly, slipping on a pair of oven mitts and bending to retrieve the roasting pan from the oven. She's hit with a wave of heat, and she smiles. "No, nothing like that," she says, carefully removing the pan and setting it on the counter. "Violence is not the answer."

"Rachel doesn't know everything," Quinn grumbles, moving closer with a serving dish and metal spoon. She sets them on the counter. "Transfer it, please," she says; "and then cover it with aluminium foil so it doesn't go dry."

Silently, Beca does as instructed, watching as Quinn opens the fridge to check on the various salads they've prepared.

"Just know that I would," Quinn says, making a point of not looking at Beca. "Punch someone. I'd even run them over with my car. Whatever you need, I'd do it."

Beca feels warmth spread through her chest. "I know," she says.

Quinn winks at her. "Good."

It's the oddest thing, this feeling. Beca knows maternal love. She still feels it now, about her own mother, but there's something both familiar and foreign about the way knowing she has Quinn in her corner makes her feel. Knowing she can call Rachel and actually have the woman show up. It's inexplicable.

It's wonderful, and terrifying.

Someone cranks up the music, and honest-to-God _Smile_ by Uncle Kracker starts to play, loud and proud, and Beca laughs as everyone starts singing along. Quinn even abandons her task and spins around the kitchen island to stalk into the living area. She barely gives Rachel a moment to register her arrival before she's tugging her into a dance, the chorus hitting and all their voices rising with it.

_You make me smile like the sun  
_ _Fall out of bed, sing like a bird  
_ _Dizzy in my head, spin like a record  
_ _Crazy on a Sunday night_

_You make me dance like a fool  
_ _Forget how to breathe  
_ _Shine like gold, buzz like a bee  
_ _Just the thought of you can drive me wild  
_ _Oh, you make me smile_

* * *

Chloe is late meeting Aubrey the next morning, physically exhausted after a late night drive home from Columbus. Her hands shake a little as she pulls into a parking spot and texts Aubrey that she's arrived.

While she's in her Messages, she switches to Beca's thread where there are a pair of pictures. The first is a picture of a table laden with food, all looking super delicious, and the second is a picture of Beca sent about ninety minutes after the first. Well, it's of Beca, practically comatose on a couch, with a sleeping baby draped over her chest.

The caption reads, _Food coma, anyone?_ , and Chloe is still smiling.

Chloe wants to know _everything_. She has this burning desire to ask question after question, determined to learn all she can about Beca and her family and how she spent her holiday and -

Just, everything.

Chloe's phone buzzes in her hand, a text from Aubrey, and she gets out of the car. Aubrey's here, waiting in front of Entrance Three. They contemplated going for the early morning rush, but neither of them actually want to end up with bruises, and the fun is in just walking around anyway. Chloe doesn't really expect to buy anything unless it's seriously marked down. She needs a new coat, probably, but she can get that any time.

Aubrey links their arms as soon as she's within touching distance and says, "I need coffee."

She sometimes has good ideas.

But, coming out on Black Friday isn't one of them. The mall is packed to the rafters, and they're probably going to end up with bruises anyway. It really starts to quieten after lunch, and they can actually walk a little more freely after three o'clock. Still, Aubrey keeps hold of her as they peruse the clothing stores, checking to see if they can score a hot deal that someone else might have missed.

It's in a particular store that Chloe hears, "All I'm saying is that you need to start thinking about it," and she feels her heart stutter for a moment, because she knows that voice.

Another one says, "Well, I'm sorry I don't have my entire life figured out."

Dr Fabray sighs, and Chloe knows it's Dr Fabray, because she peeks around the rail of clothing in front of her and sees the woman standing just outside the changing rooms with a few items in her hands. "I'm not saying you have to have your entire life figured out," she says patiently. "Frankly, I'd be alarmed if you did."

"Quinn, you're totally contradicting yourself," the other voice says, coming from inside one of the changing cubicles. "Don't you want me to find a job as a corporate lawyer in one of those big fancy firms and make lots of money while basically selling my soul?"

Dr Fabray sighs again. "Are you done in there? If I recall correctly, you promised me donuts."

"God, you're such a child."

"Donuts, Beth."

"Don't forget the donut holes," the other voice - Beth - calls out.

Inexplicably, Dr Fabray flushes red at the reminder. "I can assure you that I have not forgotten."

A moment later, Beth steps out of her cubicle, and Chloe's breath catches. She looks so much like Dr Fabray, but still different. Chloe wonders if they could be sisters, which would make the most sense, obviously, if Chloe didn't already know Dr Fabray was an only child.

Chloe is still staring at them when Aubrey suddenly appears at her side, and she yelps, drawing attention from all directions. She blushes when she sees Dr Fabray notice her, and then Aubrey, smile growing as she makes her way over.

"Can't even say I'm surprised you two would brave this day," Dr Fabray says. "Hope you had a good Thanksgiving."

"We did, thank you," Aubrey says, not as caught off guard. "And you, too."

Dr Fabray rolls her eyes, and then points over her shoulder. "That kid packed like an idiot, so we needed to get some clothes because she complained my clothes are too _Mom_ or whatever."

"Hey!" Beth complains from somewhere behind her, visibly sifting through the clothing they've already chosen.

"I could be home right now, warm and snug with some hot chocolate and my fuzzy socks and - "

"Okay, we get it," Beth calls out, and Dr Fabray laughs. "Did we decide on the blue or the black jeans?"

Dr Fabray turns to look at her. "Both," she says; "Blue for your ass and black for your legs."

"I love you," Beth almost sings.

Dr Fabray turns back to Chloe and Aubrey. "Have either of you found something?" she asks.

Chloe shakes her head, just as Aubrey says, "We're both looking for coats."

Dr Fabray nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I think the shop to the right and in the very corner still has a decent collection left," she says. "Beth found a pretty nice coat in there. The price wasn't too bad either. I even found a set of handkerchiefs for Mia, which, yeah, that doesn't seem like a thing that's going away any time soon."

Chloe can barely keep up, and it gets worse when Beth appears at Dr Fabray's side, her arms laden with clothes. "Quinn, who are your friends?" she asks. "Just how many kinds are you planning on collecting?"

Dr Fabray bumps her with her shoulder. "This is Chloe, and Aubrey," she explains. "They're cheerleaders on my Squad."

Beth whistles. "Does she run your ragged?"

"Every practice," Chloe says.

"As I should," Dr Fabray says. Then: "Girls, this is Beth."

"Her clone," Beth quips, laughing. "Nice to meet you both, but my arms are dying." She looks at Dr Fabray. "Meet you at the counter."

"Be right there," Dr Fabray says. "And don't you dare pay."

"Like hell I'm paying," Beth says. "I have my mom's credit card."

"You sneaky little bugger."

"I learned from the best."

Dr Fabray shakes her head with affection. She rolls a shoulder and says, "Kids," as if Chloe and Aubrey are supposed to understand. She clears her throat. "Well, anyway, it was nice seeing you both. Please do enjoy the rest of you break, because we're going to hit it quite hard when we reopen." She offers them one last smile, and then ducks around them.

Chloe is vaguely aware of Aubrey saying something, but she just spins around and watches as Dr Fabray arrives at the front counter and throws her arm around Beth's shoulders before dropping a kiss to her temple.

It's just so -

Aubrey tugs on her arm. "Come on," she says; "let's go check out that store she suggested."

* * *

Quinn thinks Beth would probably keel over and die if she knew the symbolism behind Quinn purchasing donut holes for Rachel. Now that Beth _is_ here, the two of them have an actual date night planned. Quinn is almost embarrassed by how much she's looking forward to it, just wanting to spend some sweet, alone time with just her wife.

So, Quinn won't ever tell her; just watching as Beth picks out a selection of donuts for herself, Quinn and the kids. No Beca, unfortunately, who returned home late last night, reluctant and a little petulant. She'd been quiet as Quinn drove her, the music playing low, and Quinn wanted to turn around a hundred times.

But Quinn knows.

She _knows_ there's only so much they can do, and just being there whenever Beca needs them is going to have to be enough for now.

"Are we getting milkshakes?" Beth tosses over her shoulder.

"No," Quinn answers. "We can pick up ingredients on our way home and make them ourselves."

"You're so lame," Beth says, but she doesn't argue. Just picks out an extra two donuts, and then watches as the cashier rings them up.

Both Quinn and Beth reach for their cards, only to be beaten by an outstretched arm from behind them and a voice saying, "It's on me."

Quinn visibly stiffens, and Beth turns around, confused. The cashier just shrugs and takes the offered card, quickly putting through the charge, and Quinn has to force her heart rate to slow before she can bring herself to turn around. Because, standing there with a cautious look on her face is Judy Fabray - no, Judy Spencer.

Quinn's jaw clenches. "That's not necessary," she says, her tone flat.

"I want to," Judy says.

Beth taps Quinn's shoulder. "Uh, what's going on? Who's this much older, totally less hot version of you? Because, you know, I'm basically a lawyer, and I'm like totally smart, so I think I have it figured out, but I'm not jumping to conclusions without hard evidence."

Quinn breathes out. "Your assumption is correct," she tells Beth.

"Cool," Beth says. "Free donuts." Then she looks at Judy. "Also, you're kind of a sucky mom."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "All that Ivy League education put to waste."

"It's Noah's fault," Beth says, and Quinn sighs, even when Judy flinches.

Quinn looks at Judy. "I don't want your money," she says. "I've never wanted it, and, God, do you think buying us freaking _donuts_ is supposed to fix anything?"

Judy shakes her head. "Of course not," she's quick to say. "I just wanted to - "

"No," Quinn says. "No."

Judy stops talking.

Beth turns back around, donuts in hand. "Judy, right?"

Judy nods.

"I'm Beth," she says. "Quinn's daughter, but not daughter. You know, the one she was forced to give up for adoption because her father kicked her out while you stood idly by, watching as your terrified, teenage daughter was told to leave the life and home over one little mistake that she didn't even - "

Quinn puts a hand on her arm, stopping her tirade. "Tiny Love," she murmurs, which is a name she hasn't called her in so long. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Beth argues, ready to keep going.

Quinn draws her into a hug. She forgets, sometimes, just how young Beth is, even if she's now twenty-four. Tall and fiery, determined and a little wayward. She's truly everything Quinn has wanted for her, happy and free and healthy and so, so loved.

"We're going to go now," Quinn says, and then she leads the way out of the donut shop.

She only realises Beth left the donuts behind when they get home.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Bree," Chloe tosses over her shoulder, hands still sifting through the items on offer on the rail in front of her. "Ninety dollars is a steal for that coat."

"But it's red," Aubrey complains, staring down at said coat with only minimal disdain.

"I think it'll suit you," Chloe says. "And, come on, what's so wrong with red? Our uniforms are red."

"That's probably why I have such an aversion to it," Aubrey points out. "I'm so glad Coach told us not to wear them every day anymore, even if I've had to wake up earlier to pick out an outfit every morning." She groans. "I miss my sleep, Chlo."

"She says… as if she even ever got any."

"Shut up."

Chloe laughs, and then squeals when she finds a particular coat. "Ooh, what about this one, Bree?" she asks, pulling the hanger out and holding it for Aubrey to see. "It has a similar cut to the one you have there, and it's grey - which, boring - but it has this belt thingy." She checks the price. "Oh, and it's ten dollars cheaper!"

Aubrey seems to consider it, but Chloe already knows what's going to happen. She's been shopping with her best friend more than enough times to know the drill.

Aubrey wants the grey coat, but she's too proud, so she'll buy the red one.

Chloe will end up buying the grey one, and, somehow the coats will end up in the other's closet, no questions asked.

It's almost amusing just how correct Chloe is.

* * *

Beth takes the kids to the park on Saturday afternoon, and Rachel and Quinn barely waste a second before they're practically tearing at each other's clothes. In another life, Rachel thinks she might actually be embarrassed by how much she wants her wife in this moment, but Quinn has never made her feel as if it's something to be ashamed of.

Plus, it seems Quinn wants her just as much, if Rachel is to go on the way Quinn sets her on their bed and basically rips off the remainder of her own clothes. Then she's on her, hands roaming, lips claiming and words seeking something.

Rachel knows the last few days and weeks have been emotionally straining, and they need this. Quinn needs her, and she needs Quinn in return.

"More," Rachel breathes against Quinn's ear, and Quinn is always happy to oblige.

* * *

After, Rachel tells her, "This almost makes up for my lost donut holes."

Quinn laughs softly, tucking one arm under Rachel's body and drawing her closer to her own body. "If anything, your donuts were sacrificed, and we both know they wouldn't have tasted as good."

"Because you didn't buy them."

Quinn sighs. While Rachel knows what happened - it was impossible to hide with the way Beth reacted to the meeting - they haven't really had the time to talk about it.

They haven't even taken the time to talk about Beca.

"I like to think I would have handled it differently if I'd been alone," Quinn says, nuzzling against Rachel's bare shoulder. "I think Beth holds some secondary anger about the entire thing, which we'll probably need to talk about some more."

"It's a complicated situation," Rachel agrees, allowing Quinn time to work through whatever she needs to.

Quinn closes her eyes. "It was… jarring having her that close," she confesses. "Having her look at me, talk to me, even just acknowledge me. I - I couldn't help flashing back to the last time we spoke. When I told her my truth, and she told me she wouldn't be able to accept it. I've wondered about that phrasing for so long, you know? She wouldn't be _able_ to, as if someone wouldn't let her. God? My father? Does it even matter?

"I think I want answers to my questions, but I don't think I'm ready to ask them," she explains. "Being faced with her just solidified that. I just - if she - I can't justify keeping the kids from her, if she's willing. I never wanted to be the kind of mother who kept people who _wanted_ to know them away from them."

"Quinn," Rachel breathes. "You have no obligation to her."

"But, don't I have an obligation to our children?"

"I think you need to determine if she intends to poison them against our love," Rachel says, wincing slightly as the words leave her mouth, because it's a concern she's never been able to voice before.

Quinn doesn't say anything for a long, long time. "Our babies are smart cookies," she eventually says. "But, yes, you're right."

Rachel isn't convinced. "Quinn," she says, turning her head and pressing a kiss to the corner of Quinn's mouth. "You have no obligation to her," she says again. "Do you hear me? Nothing. Nothing at all."

Quinn's eyes are a little cloudy, but Rachel _knows_ that look. Her upper body turns fully, legs following a moment after, and then she's rolling right on top of Quinn and getting a laugh out of her.

"Nothing," Rachel repeats, settling her hips over Quinn's and making them both moan at the contact. "Let me convince you."

And, she does.

* * *

Beth joins Quinn and Emma at church on Sunday morning, the three of them quite a sight with their matching blonde hair and various shades of green eyes. It's almost amusing the way people actually do double-takes at the sight of them, and Beth and Emma continually giggle at their reactions as the sermon gets started.

This is a new church, different in many ways to the one Quinn attended as a teenager. It's more inclusive, open in a way that makes Quinn feel welcome instead of judged. Obviously, there are still those people who believe her 'lifestyle' has no place in the church, but they're quiet here, and Quinn enjoys the silence - when it's not filled with giggling.

Today, she's thankful for many things, and at least two of them are seated beside her. The other three are probably on their way to the other two, Sundays being a day they spend with Rachel's parents. And then another, surprising one, who is probably alone right now, closed away in her bedroom. Then there are another two, somewhere in San Francisco, with their other two, a pair of boys that Santana and Brittany dote over.

So many people to be thankful for. So many things, as well. Her family's health, their happiness. She's thankful for her own success; to be able to provide care and stability for her family beyond what she can do with her own heart and her bare hands.

Emma rests her head on her arm, and Quinn automatically leans down to kiss the top of her head, inadvertently catching sight of Beth watching them with something unreadable in her expression. It's not the first time Quinn has seen it, but she's never had cause to ask about it until today.

She waits, of course, until she's parked in front of Hiram and LeRoy's house and Emma has run into the house to say, "We never really talk about it, do we?"

Beth doesn't even ask what she's talking about. "I'm not… sad about it," she explains. "Or angry. At least, not in the way you think."

Quinn waits, silent and patient.

"I mean, I just hate thinking about you back then," she says. "It's not fair, you know, that they could do that to you. That _Noah_ could do that to you, and I just - I don't like that - things could have been so different." She sucks in a breath. "And, God, I don't say that as some ungrateful child, because I'm not. I love my mom, and I love my life, and I get it, Quinn. I've always understood it. You were young and alone, and I get it, but, sometimes - sometimes I just can't help thinking - I sometimes wish - I just, I look at you and - " she stops, her words getting caught too many times to string a full sentence together.

Quinn reaches out to touch her, fingers on her arm. "Oh, Beth," she whispers, deep understanding in her voice.

Beth shakes her head. "It's not fair," she says. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I even feel this. It's not - I'm not - I just wish that - "

"You were Emma," Quinn finishes for her.

Beth hangs her head in obvious shame. "I'm sorry."

Quinn tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't be," she says. "You are allowed to feel whatever you want."

"Even jealousy?" Beth asks, her voice barely a whisper as she keeps her eyes focused on her lap.

Quinn hums. "I feel like that sometimes," she confesses. "That I've been a part of Emma's every first in all the ways I can be, but I never got that with you. I think about it a lot. I know there's been a lot of transparency in our lives, and I know we joke quite a bit about our respective relationships, but there is a very real divide, and I am sorry for that."

"It's a piece of paper," Beth says. "I just - sometimes, I feel as if I'm part of your family, but then I'm forced to remember I'm not." She lifts her gaze to Quinn's face. "Do you know that? There isn't an ounce of me that belongs to you or Rachel. Legally. Not even through Shelby. Nothing. But I look so much like you and people always link us together in some way, and do you have any idea how I preen when people think we're sisters? I just - I - "

Quinn pulls her into a hug, wanting to hide her own face. "You are my family," Quinn whispers into her hair. "Maybe not by paper, but definitely by heart."

* * *

During the drive to the airport, Beth tells Quinn, "I'm going to look into firms in New York."

Quinn nods once, and then says, "Only if that's what you want."

"It's what makes the most sense."

Quinn turns down the volume on the music, hoping Matty doesn't kick up a fuss about it in the backseat. "Do you even know what you want?"

Beth seems to mull that over. "I want to help people," she says. "It's all I want."

"Well, I mean, that's a direction you can follow," Quinn says. "Just, you know, try to be smart about it."

Beth rolls her eyes. "I didn't actually go with him, you know."

Quinn chuckles, increasing the volume again.

They're going to be just fine.


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

"Is the sun even shining?"

Chloe looks over her shoulder at Aubrey, who is slumped against her locker in the locker room. The rest of the Squad looks as alive as Aubrey, and Chloe chuckles to herself. "Didn't you have your morning coffee?"

"I told you I'm not drinking caffeine, anymore."

"I think it'd be in everyone's best interest if you absolutely didn't do that," Chloe says immediately, unable to help her own alarm. "Seriously, Bree, can't you do that over Winter Break or something? The last thing anyone needs is your losing it right now. Or, ever."

"I'm fine," Aubrey dismisses. "I'm totally fine."

Chloe just rolls her eyes, absently wondering just how long it's going to take Aubrey to change her mind.

In the end, they barely get through twenty minutes before Aubrey leans over, panting from exertion, and says, "Fuck it, I'm drinking my coffee," and Chloe laughs and laughs.

Dr Fabray turns sharp eyes on her. "Something funny, Beale?" she asks.

Chloe's smile grows more genuine, and Dr Fabray's own features soften.

"Pay attention," is all Dr Fabray says, and Chloe thinks long and hard about how calm and reassured she feels with the truth that Dr Fabray knows her secrets and has kept them.

"Yeah, Chloe, pay attention," Aubrey teases.

"You too, Posen," Dr Fabray adds a beat later, barely glancing up, and Aubrey's mouth snaps shut, Chloe laughing all over again.

* * *

Beca is probably the most stubborn person she knows. She's also very good at giving the silent treatment, and she has gone literal days without saying a word to either Sheila or her father.

She arrives at school on Monday morning and gets out of the car without so match as a glance back. She stalks into the school with a heavy scowl on her face, and people practically jump to get of her way before she bowls them right over.

She's been in constant contact with Chloe, but she honestly can't bring herself to divulge that her family life leaves much to be desired. She likes being Just Beca when it comes to Chloe, and, frankly, it's not as if she knows a lot about Chloe, either.

Though, Beca feels as if that's finally something Chloe wants to change.

Which is merely confirmed when Beca gets to her locker and just manages to input her combination, before Chloe arrives at her side with a coffee from the Lima Bean and an easy smile.

"You look murderous," Chloe tells her; "and I'm the one who had to wake up at five-thirty."

Beca takes the coffee from her. "Thank you," she says.

"What's up with you?" Chloe asks.

Beca leans against the bank of lockers, casually sipping at her coffee. "Just had a rough Break," she explains.

Chloe blinks. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, always so sincere. "I thought you looked pretty comfortable in the picture you sent."

Beca blushes, ducking her head. "I didn't even take that picture."

"Well, be sure to thank whoever did."

"It'll just go straight to her head," Beca grumbles, knowing she now has Beth's number inputted in her phone. _For emergencies_ , Beth said, but Beca doesn't know what kind of emergency she could end up in that would make her call someone in _New Haven_.

"It's my new home screen," Chloe says, and Beca is only half sure she's joking. "You both looked so cute."

Beca's blush intensifies. "Matty's the cute one," she says.

"Matty?"

"Matthew," Beca says. "Stupid cute, and he knows it." She shakes her head, wondering if the boy even knows how much he's adored by all the women around him.

Chloe's eyes soften. "Is that when your Break took a turn? At dinner? Because, you know, families tend to have awkward Thanksgiving dinners a lot."

Beca shakes her head. "I didn't have dinner with my family," she confesses. "That was the problem."

"Oh." Chloe touches her arm. "Are you okay, though?"

Beca is very aware of Chloe's touch, and it feels monumental for some reason. It's not the first time Chloe has touched her, but they're moving into a new chapter of their... acquaintance, and Beca is very, _very_ aware.

She also knows she has some kind of feelings for this girl, and it's both terrifying and fulfilling being touched by Chloe.

"I'm fine," Beca says, because, right now, she is. "I'm fine."

Chloe looks as if she doesn't believe her, but she makes no comment. Instead, she says, "So, I've been thinking about another song we could do for Sectionals."

Beca perks up immediately, and she realises belatedly that was always Chloe's intention. Sneaky.

* * *

Rachel receives a soft kiss to her cheek from Quinn when she arrives at the field, just a little late after a Department meeting to discuss what's expected of each member regarding the upcoming musical. They're going to be working closely with the Drama Department, but Rachel has made it clear it's _her_ production.

She's stressed, obviously, with auditions scheduled for Thursday and Friday, and then rehearsals for the Bellas. There's also her fathers, and the children, and then Quinn's own stress that Rachel can't help feeling as well.

It's a lot.

So, she accepts Quinn's kiss, and then drops onto the bleachers rather heavily beside Maria, startling the poor woman, and dropping her head onto her shoulder.

Maria freezes for a moment, and then relaxes. "That bad, huh?"

"I kind of just want to sleep," Rachel complains, closing her eyes and sighing. "Will you wake me if anything exciting happens?"

Maria chuckles. "You know you don't both have to be here, right?" she points out. "One should be enough."

"Gosh, I wish," Rachel says, yawning. "I mean, it isn't as if I don't want to be here, but Quinn and I now have a date with Mia and her new dojo after we're done here."

Maria sounds a little scandalised when she asks, " _Mia_ is starting at a dojo?"

Rachel hums. "Quinn thinks it'll be a good idea," she says. "She worries, sometimes, about Mia. Out there, in the big, big world."

"She's just so... little," Maria says.

"Exactly."

Rachel doesn't actually mean to fall asleep, but she does, and she's woken with a start when someone suddenly shouts out, and Maria laughs when she jerks upright, her sunglasses almost flying off her face.

"Is it over?" Rachel asks.

Maria nods. "Just about," she says. "Quinn's running through a few things with Christina and Steph."

Rachel stretches and yawns, and then takes out her phone to check the time. They still have a few minutes before they have to leave to pick up Mia, and then Matty, to get to Mia's first class on time.

"Did Quinn even notice I was asleep?" Rachel asks.

"Might have even snapped a few pictures of your drool."

Rachel gasps, and then wipes her mouth before studying Maria's shoulder to find it blissfully clean. "You're messing with me," she accuses.

Maria smiles. "I've been told I have a comfortable shoulder."

Rachel glares playfully at her. "Well, I can't even dispute that," she says. "But don't be so smug about it."

Maria laughs. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rachel grumbles, "I think I liked it better when you hated us."

Maria's smile slips off her face, and Rachel mentally curses her sleepy brain for saying such a thing. "I never... hated you," she says, quiet and a little tense. "Like many here, I suspect, I just never understood you." She keeps her gaze elsewhere. "Sometimes, I still don't."

Rachel hears what she's saying, and she wonders if Maria is even talking about the gay thing at all. "Well, if you ever figure us out, please let me know. I've been trying for years."

Maria glances at her. "I've actually been meaning to ask you something," she says. "Well, you and Quinn, but I'm sure you'll pass it on."

"Of course," Rachel says. "What is it?"

"Christina talks about you guys a lot, and Joe is curious," she says. "Obviously, he could just meet you all if he could bother to come to one of her practices or games," she mutters, mostly to herself. "But, this is a formal invitation to dinner at our house. All of you. Whenever you're free."

Rachel just stares at her. "Seriously?"

Maria nods. "Seriously."

Rachel throws her arms around her, hugging her close, and, it only takes a few seconds before she returns it.

* * *

When Sheila picks up Beca from school, Beca doesn't greet her. She also ignores her when she asks about her school day, choosing rather to offer a small smile to Aaron, who is sweaty and grass-stained from practice.

"I scored a goal today," he tells her, knocking his own forehead with his knuckles. "With my head."

Beca holds out her fist.

Between him and Chloe, maybe this Monday won't turn out too bad.

* * *

"What if they hurt my baby?" Rachel asks, and Quinn keeps her eyes focused on Matty in her lap, lest she rolls them at the sound of Rachel's antics. "Just look at her. She's so tiny, Quinn. They're going to flatten her."

Quinn shakes Matty's arms. "Listen to your Mama," she coos. "Such a drama queen."

"I resent that," Rachel pouts.

"She's going to be fine," Emma says from Rachel's other side, still dressed from soccer practice. She has her homework already out, poised to get started on Math. "She's tougher than she looks, and it's not like they're going to be fighting each other on the first day, Ma. They're five."

"Yeah, Rach, they're five," Quinn echoes.

"Hush, both of you," Rachel says, eyes focused on Mia as she lines up behind a much taller boy. "No way is that boy five. He's a giant."

"Rachel," Quinn says, voice just a little sharp. "Calm down, okay? Or she's going to feeding off your energy. She's going to be fine. They won't let anyone get hurt."

Rachel pouts. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Quinn does roll her eyes this time, and then carefully distracts her with talk of her upcoming auditions, which works like a complete treat. Quinn can tell she's nervous, though Quinn can't really figure out why she would be. Rachel has been around and involved in plays since she was old enough to know it was what she even wanted to do with her life. Quinn knows she's going to have to step up in support, and she smiles to herself at the sheer idea of being someone Rachel Berry(-Fabray) actually _wants_.

At some point, when Mia is walking through some kind of kick, and Emma is frowning down at her words of the week, and Matty is curled into her body, and Rachel is talking animatedly about a certain scene she's had to tweak; Quinn has never felt so, so content.

* * *

Beca arrives early for the auditions on Thursday, wanting to wish Rachel luck before they begin, but she walks into the auditorium to find Rachel and Benji hunched over the desk and discussing something quite intensely. Rachel is pointing at something on the table in front of her, and then saying something to Benji, a slight frown on her face, and Beca decides it's best not to approach them.

Instead, she slips into a seat in one of the back rows and takes out her phone to keep herself occupied. She has a few messages from Chloe that she quickly replies to, smiling to herself at how… giddy she feels at the fact Chloe seems to be _trying_ now.

Chloe even forced her into getting _Snapchat_ , which is a whole other beast she's still trying to figure out. CR laughed for a solid minute when Beca asked her how she's supposed to use it, and then proceeded to tell Fat Amy, just so they could continue to laugh together.

Beca hates it here.

When Beca checks what Chloe's sent, her heart practically leaps into her throat. It's a Snap of Chloe, post-workout, glean of sweat on her skin and hair falling out of her ponytail, casually sticking to her head. Her smile is a little tired, but deeply genuine, and Beca resists the urge to take a screenshot. Chloe's caption reads, _I don't think I can move - come save me_ 😛, and Beca is smitten in a way that has been terrifying her ever since she met the redhead.

With her smile still on her face, she takes a picture of the nearly-auditorium and captions with her own, _Can't leave - I'm a professional now_ , and then holds her breath until Chloe sends back another selfie, this one with a pout instead. Beca's stomach clenches, and she laughs at the caption, _Oh, I see where your priorities lie_.

 _You could always come join me_ , Beca texts, somewhat bravely.

 _IF I COULD MOVE_ , is Chloe's reply, and Beca is in the middle of thinking up a smart reply when someone drops into the seat rather unceremoniously beside her and says, "I was _sure_ I was going to be the first one here."

Beca's irritation spikes at the sudden intrusion, and her eyes slide towards a boy who is grinning at her as if he doesn't care he's just interrupted her solitude. She glares for a moment, and then returns her attention to her phone.

"Oh, don't be like that," the boy says. "We're the only two people here."

"No, we're not," Beca says, typing a quick reply to Chloe, making sure to angle her screen away from this strange boy.

"Dr Berry and Benji don't count," he says. "Why are _you_ here so early anyway?"

"I'm eager," she deadpans.

"That is - hah, you're messing with me."

"What do you want?"

"To know your name."

"Why?"

"You're a fellow eager beaver," he points out. "I'm quite certain we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

"I highly doubt that."

He laughs, and then holds out his hand rather dramatically. "I'm Jesse," he says. "Nice to meet you."

She lets out a long-suffering sigh, but shakes his hand. "Beca."

Jesse grins. "Why have I never seen you before?"

"Why would I know?"

His smile actually grows. "Prickly," he says; "I like it."

"I literally don't care."

"Are you new?"

"Yes."

"Not a junior, I'm guessing," he says.

"Nope."

"I'm a junior, you see," Jesse says, not even bothered by Beca's monosyllabic responses. "So, you must be a Freshman."

Beca glares at him.

"Oh, my bad," he says, laughing with raised hands in surrender. "Already jaded, so must be a Sophomore, then."

Beca breathes slowly, keeping herself calm.

"So... who are you auditioning for?"

"I'm not."

"Oh, cool, backstage?"

"Sound," Beca says, her fingers twitching as she waits for a response to her text of, _I know you have the willpower to overcome anything, Beale_. She kind of just wants to know if Chloe is coming, so she can maybe prepare herself.

"Do you sing?" Jesse asks. "I do. I'm auditioning for either Connor or Larry."

Beca glances at him. "Not Evan?"

Jesse laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Dude, are you insane? That role is Benji's, hands down."

"But nobody's even auditioned," Beca points out.

"And it'd be pointless, either way," he says. "I'd lose all respect for Dr Berry if she didn't cast him."

Beca feels a flash of protectiveness over Rachel, but she realises Jesse means no malice. "I've never heard him sing," she says.

Jesse nods. "Well, you're new," he says. "Jesse - the other one, Mr St James - told Benji he couldn't be in the Treblemakers if he was going to pursue Drama, and Benji chose the stage."

Beca frowns. "The Treblemakers are the other show choir, right?"

Jesse matches her frown, and then gasps. "The other… Oh, my God, are you a Bella?"

"So what if I am?" she asks, suddenly defensive.

"Whoa, no, I think that's cool," Jesse says. "I'm a Treble. We're kind of supposed to be direct rivals, but I don't care about any of that. Unlike some of the others."

"Others?"

"Well, Jesse," he starts; "our director. He's made it pretty clear that he's not a fan of Dr Berry, making claims she took his job or whatever." He shakes his head. "And a bunch of the other guys are just misogynistic assholes."

Beca hums, and then looks at her phone when it buzzes in her hand. Jesse, thankfully, gets distracted by the arrival of other students, and Beca is able to check Chloe's text, smiling to herself at the words, _Not calories, unfortunately_.

The auditorium fills up quite quickly from then, and she has to put her phone away, giving her full attention to Rachel, who shoots her a grateful smile when she spots her.

Rachel is letting them audition with any song they want, but the acting piece is from the play. As expected, Benji auditions first, singing a song Beca doesn't recognise until Jesse tells her it's called _Older_ by Ben Platt, and Beca makes a note of it, thinking it's something she could work with.

Benji opens his mouth and sings, and Beca just gets it.

"Oh."

Jesse grins at her. "What did I tell you?"

She doesn't even look at him as Benji finishes his song, her eyes sliding towards Rachel, who is wearing a frown. It catches her off guard, because Benji is great, though Beca suspects it has to do with more than just the audition.

She tells herself she'll stick around to make sure everything is all right, regardless.

* * *

Chloe debates over her decision to head towards the auditorium quite endlessly. She's pretty sure Beca was just joking when she asked Chloe to join her, but there's a part of her that wants to lay eyes on the girl, just for a moment.

She's freshly showered after cheerleading practice, and she should probably head for home and start on her homework, but she can't help her desire to see Beca. She already knew the auditions for the musical were being held today, but it was a surprise to see that Beca was getting involved. It just didn't seem to fit, which was an assumption Chloe didn't want to make.

"I'm not actually auditioning," Beca made sure to tell her, but Chloe gets the feeling she would be good at it. Beca just seems to have so many different talents; ones even she doesn't know about.

So, Chloe makes her way to the auditorium and sneaks in the back as silently as she can, slipping into a seat in the back row and searching the heads for Beca's familiar one. She doesn't spot her until the boy on stage finishes up and makes his way down from the stage.

And walks right towards Beca.

Chloe watches his smile widen when Beca says something to him, his body dropping into the seat beside her. Chloe can't quite explain the odd feeling that settles over her at the sight of Beca leaning in to whisper something to him. Then Beca laughs at whatever he says in response, and Chloe realises coming here was a mistake.

Or maybe not.

She can't decide yet.

What this has been is enlightening and eye-opening in a way that shouldn't be surprising. She already knows she likes Beca.

No.

She _likes_ Beca.

Like _likes_ her.

And seeing her interact with a boy who very clearly... is at least interested in her is not something Chloe wants to keep doing. It's something she was never prepared for, and, while Chloe is many things, a confused masochist is not one of them.

So, with a soft sigh, she takes her phone and sends a quick text to Beca before sneaking back out of the auditorium, feeling a little cowardly.

She'll figure it out tomorrow.

* * *

Rachel receives a picture of Mia in her karate getup from Quinn in the middle of auditions, and it really helps push her through the last few people for the day. That, coupled with the first few pictures of Emma streaking down the field spread warmth through her heart, and she notices Benji involuntarily peek at her screen before he makes sure to look away.

Such a gentleman.

She's developed a bit of a soft spot for the boy, just in the short amount of time they've spent on the production. He reminds her of her sophomore self, passionate in a way that is divisive. And the fact he was forced to choose between the musical and being in show choir is something she's all too familiar with.

It angers her, of course, because the students in her Department should be able to do whatever they want, all to their heart's desire. He should be able to participate in everything he possibly can, particularly if he intends to pursue musical theatre as a career.

Which, well, was a little _odd_ for her, because he very obviously knows exactly who she is. The first time they met, it looked as if he was physically forcing himself not to react to her presence, and Rachel definitely appreciates his discretion. While she's aware of her own accomplishments, she does want to maintain some kind of anonymity in her workplace, and being outed as some kind of celebrity isn't going to help with that.

Not that she thinks any of these teenagers would even care if she's famous.

Still, she'd rather not find out.

Rachel already knows they won't get through all the auditions today, but she's already certain of at least three roles, given what she's already seen so far. Benji, of course, as the title character. She already suspected he would be her trailblazer, but she honestly didn't expect him to be so good already.

Obviously, he's going to need some polishing, but that's why she's here. It's just a relief to know he's already received some significant training, and she'll be able to focus more on her other students, and even have him help with that.

She might be the director of the musical, but there's an entire team behind her, and while she'll make the final decisions, she knows she has teachers from the Drama Department sitting in the audience, also watching and taking notes. They'll meet to discuss their decisions for callbacks on Monday, but they need to get through these two afternoons first.

Scheduling their entire family has always been a tricky thing, but she and Quinn try to be the kind of parents that _show up_. Rachel gets the feeling Quinn overcompensates slightly to battle the absence of support she suffered as a child, but Rachel doesn't think their children are going to suffer from too much love… at least not at this age.

With the musical and all their competitions coming up, she knows she and Quinn are going to have to sit together and rework their weeks around rehearsals and practices, extra curricular activities and family time, all while making sure to dedicate a few hours to just the two of them.

While Rachel won't admit it out loud, she's _relieved_ Beca is involved in things she's involved in. Mainly because she's not sure she would be able to squeeze in anything else, and she wants to show Beca the support she deserves.

The desire catches her a little off guard, but she accepts it for what it is. She won't tell Quinn, but there's actually a part of Beca that reminds Rachel of Quinn. Just a girl, a little lost and guarded, looking for _something_ in this world, but not convinced she deserves it.

Well.

Rachel is here to prove Beca wrong, the way she's been doing for Quinn for years.

* * *

Quinn isn't sure how she gets any work done.

Truly.

Daily, or even at all.

She doesn't remember being this busy in New York, but that could be attributed to a lot of different things. They had a different kind of support system there, friends and established babysitters. Rachel didn't work as much, especially after Matty was born, and Quinn could decide on her office hours to leave enough time for family and writing.

God, just thinking about writing fills her with some kind of anxiety. It was always something that worried her quite endlessly. She was so hesitant to pursue it as a career, just in case the act of having to _do_ it made it lose its magic. It's been her safety for so long, allowing her an escape when she gets too much in her own head, but it's been weeks since she's been able to sit at her desk, open up her laptop and just write for the sake of writing.

It's not even to say that she doesn't have ideas swirling around her head. She has many stories going on at any one time; it's just having to put them on paper. It also doesn't help that her agent wants her to fly out to Los Angeles to discuss potential movie rights or even the option of a television show, or that her editor is pushing for more chapters on the next book in her ongoing series.

What's sparking in her mind is actually a stand-alone, and she's sure Siobhan doesn't want to hear that.

When she and Rachel finally get a chance to sit and talk about their commitments over the weekend, Quinn forces herself to mention the idea of taking herself on a weekend writing retreat. She's done them before, but that was usually just out to their house in the Hamptons, a short escape from the city.

It's different here, and they both know it.

It's Quinn's way of telling Rachel she's struggling and a lot overwhelmed without saying the words out loud. She knows Rachel hears what she's saying, either way, and she can't meet her gaze as she waits for the verdict.

"Did you have a date in mind?" Rachel eventually asks, and Quinn releases the breath she didn't even realise she was holding. How did she get so lucky?

Quinn clears her throat. "Well, if it's over Winter Break, it won't have to be a weekend," she says. "Schools are closing early on the twentieth," she explains. "Maybe I can leave that afternoon, and I can be back on Saturday. Or even Friday. I just - " she stops. " _Baby_."

Rachel reaches for her, fingers curling around her neck. "I know," she says, as if she can feel the turmoil brewing within Quinn. "I know, my love."

"I'm sorry," Quinn tells her, and she means it. "I've been trying - I swear I've - "

"Quinn," Rachel breathes, getting up from her own seat and settling herself in Quinn's lap. Her fingers thread through soft blonde hair, Quinn's body practically trembling under her. "I told you never to apologise for what you need."

"I just - I wish I didn't - "

"Quinn," she says again, resting her forehead against Quinn's. "We've talked about this many times. It's not… some kind of break from _us_. It's not. It's not even a break from your life. I don't, for a second, think you're not happy with what we have here. Not for a single moment. I know you. I know your heart, and I know your head.

"It _is_ a lot. We're doing a lot and we're living these full, exciting lives, and, baby, you have been so wonderful. It is okay to ask me for this, and it is okay to accept it when I tell you it is something you can have. It is always okay to need to put yourself first, because the only way you can be the best version of the person we love is to make sure you remain a person _you_ love."

Quinn closes her eyes, her own emotions swirling within, mixing with her fatigue. "I love you," she says. "I love you so much."

"I know," Rachel assures her, gently kissing her eyelids. "This, in no way, means you don't."

All these years later, and Quinn still struggles to believe it.

* * *

Monday brings with it another early morning practice for the Cheerios, and Aubrey isn't in a better mood this time around. It's mainly fitness that Dr Fabray takes them through, and Chloe can't help but notice she seems a little distracted.

"And I even had my coffee," Aubrey complains, and Sadie flicks her ear as they work through their warm-down stretches. "Ouch."

Chloe isn't really paying attention as she watches Dr Fabray extend her hamstrings, all with a slight frown on her face. It makes Chloe wonder if something is wrong, and she can't quite stop herself from trailing after the woman when she leaves the gym.

Chloe knows she should probably be using the time to shower and get ready for the start of school, but her teacher is... well, she's more important.

Chloe rushes behind her, easily catching up and getting her attention. "Coach," she says, a little breathless. "Is everything okay?"

Dr Fabray seems to startle at her sudden appearance. "Oh, hello, Chloe."

"Are you okay?"

She frowns a little at the question, looking as if she's going to pretend not to understand to what Chloe is referring. But then she sighs. "It's been a stressful couple of days," she admits. "But I am okay, thank you. How are you doing?"

Chloe shrugs. "I'm trying."

"Oh?" Dr Fabray asks, raising her eyebrows. "With the girl?"

Chloe licks her lips. "I don't want to... avoid her anymore."

"That's a step, Chloe," she says. "You're trying to be friends?"

Chloe clenches her jaw, thinking hard. "I'm trying," she repeats. "I don't know if I'm any good at it, though."

"Being friends?"

"I - I saw her with some... boy, and I - is it always going to feel like that?" she asks. "Seeing her with someone else. Will is always feel so..." she trails off.

Dr Fabray stops walking, and Chloe has to, as well. "Chloe," she breathes. "I'm afraid that, in itself, is another entire conversation all on its own."

Chloe nods.

"How about we have a talk tomorrow after practice?" she suggests. "I have work to do, anyway, and your first draft on your _Streetcar_ paper needs some serious work."

Chloe blushes. "Is it that bad?" she asks.

Dr Fabray grins at her, something a little playful, and Chloe wonders what it's like to know her outside of these walls. "It needs work," she just says again, and Chloe resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Is that okay?"

Chloe nods. "Tomorrow, after practice. I'll bring muffins."

Dr Fabray laughs. "Are you a baker?"

"I am," she says. "Sort of. When I'm stressed."

"Are you stressed?"

Chloe rolls a shoulder, and very seriously says, "I'm always stressed."

* * *

Rachel debates rather endlessly with herself over the merits of doing what she's about to do, but ultimately decides to go through with it.

And it goes about the way she expects.

Rachel is casual when she brings up Benji to Jesse, almost in passing, after she's dismissed the departmental meeting. She's more curious about his reasoning than anything, but he takes it entirely the wrong way, which is expected. He imagines she's undermining his choices for _his_ group, and the entire thing ends with him accepting some challenge he's managed to decipher from her voice that definitely doesn't exist.

All she wanted to know is why Benji wasn't a Treblemaker, and now she's ignited some invisible rivalry enough to put the one between the New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline to shame. It is exhausting, and she really doesn't want to be the one to tell the Bellas that they'll probably be facing some kind of antagonistic behaviour from the boys.

Ugh.

It's high school all over again.

* * *

Chloe doesn't actually know what kind of muffins Dr Fabray likes, so she bakes two types, making them a little more healthy, because she has a feeling her Coach is one of _those_.

Bran, and Lemon Poppyseed.

Can't go wrong with those, can you?

Dr Fabray is sitting behind her desk when Chloe gets to her classroom, freshly showered from practice and weighed down by her various bags. She has homework to do, an English paper to perfect, a difficult conversation to have, and muffins to consume. She is kind of hungry, especially after they ran through their routines more times than Chloe can even count, Dr Fabray scrutinising everything until she was sure it was practically flawless.

Chloe knocks on the classroom's open door, and watches as Dr Fabray lifts her head to look at her. "Chloe, hey," she says. "Come on in."

Chloe enters the classroom, squeezing through the door with all her bags, and then closes it behind her. Dr Fabray looks thoroughly amused by her arrival, and Chloe blushes under her scrutiny.

"Are you moving in or something?" Dr Fabray asks.

Chloe drops her bags beside a desk in the first row, and then flops into a seat. "Me thinks you don't actually want a muffin," she quips.

Dr Fabray immediately straightens in her seat and holds out her hands as she says, "Gimme, gimme," with exaggerated seriousness. "What have you brought for me?"

Chloe gets to her feet again, groaning only slightly, and then sets a small plastic container on her desk. "I baked Bran and Lemon Poppyseed," she explains, and then freezes when Dr Fabray does. "Oh no, don't you like either of them?"

"I _love_ them," she says, eyes a little wide. "LPS is my literal favourite. I live and breathe it. How did you know?"

Chloe shrugs. "Lucky guess?"

Dr Fabray just grins at her, and there is something so childlike about it. "Well, let me just send a text to Rachel," she says. "She has a kettle in her office, and she promised me a delivery. Do you drink tea? Coffee? How do you take it?"

Chloe blinks slowly. "Uh, just milk and two sugars please," she says, a lot caught of guard by how easy this is.

"Got it," Dr Fabray says, and then reaches for her phone while Chloe returns to her seat and takes out her homework. She has a quick problem set for Calculus to get through, and then she'll get started on fixing her paper. She thinks Dr Fabray was just messing with her, because it's not terrible, but she can't be too sure. "Should be here in a couple of minutes," Dr Fabray says.

Chloe doesn't really know _who_ Rachel is, but she thinks she might, anyway, because the name… she's sure she's heard it before. There's something just wanting to click in her mind, but it evades her as she rather focuses on derivation and integration, a crease in her brow.

She's not even sure how much time passes before she hears a quiet bump on the door, and then Dr Fabray is getting to her feet and rushing to open the door.

"Delivery for two," Dr Berry says from just outside the classroom, and Chloe gapes at her. Dr Berry is Rachel. Oh. Right. Chloe totally knew that. "Do I also get a muffin?"

Dr Fabray takes the two cups of coffee from her. "I'll save you one," she says.

"Just one?"

"I'll see how generous I'm feeling," Dr Fabray says, and Chloe watches them very carefully, trying to figure out just what is happening in front of her.

"You could always get me donut holes," Dr Berry says.

" _Dude_ ," Dr Fabray says; "get out of here."

Dr Berry laughs. "Say thank you for the coffee, Quinn. I know you have better manners than that."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

When Dr Berry leaves, Dr Fabray turns back with the coffee, a slight flush in her cheeks, and Chloe is left to wonder just what she's missing. She doesn't have time to ponder as Dr Fabray invites her to join her and the muffins at her desk.

"I think we have some things to talk about," Dr Fabray says. "Including what else you can bake, because I need to figure out a birthday cake."

Chloe gets to her feet. "Oh, cool, whose birthday is it?"

"My wife's," Dr Fabray says. "I'm also trying to figure out what to get her as a present."

"Oh?" Chloe prompts, dragging one of the chairs to settle in front of the desk.

She breathes out. "It's not a special age, not really, but we've been through quite a bit this year. New town, new jobs, new people, and I want to get her something to show her how much I appreciate her without going completely overboard the way I did last year."

"What did you do last year?"

"Took her to Jamaica," Dr Fabray confesses, her cheeks pink. "Basically whisked her away for a ten-day vacation without the kids, and she spent the first day complaining it was too much time and she missed her babies, and yeah, I'm never doing that again."

Chloe giggles. "Sounds romantic, though."

"Try telling her that," Dr Fabray grumbles good-naturedly. "I didn't hear the end of it until I dragged her to the beach and placed a piña colada in her hand. Then, ten days later, she didn't want to leave. Never can quite win with that woman."

Chloe thinks about it for a moment. "What kinds of things does she like?"

"Music," Dr Fabray answers, zero hesitance in her voice. "I've been toying with the idea of taking her to dinner and a concert," she says. "Or I could take her dancing. We haven't done that in a while. I just wouldn't even know where to take her, though."

Chloe hums in thought. "In Lima, you've probably got only one option for that," she says; "but there are lots of places in Toledo, and even Columbus, if you're willing to make the drive."

Dr Fabray eyes her curiously. "Do I even want to know how you know any of that?"

Chloe leans forward to open the container and pushes the muffins towards Dr Fabray. "My brother," she explains, her voice dropping in volume. "He was actually a dancer. Trained in ballroom."

Dr Fabray doesn't say anything as she picks out a muffin and sets it on a tissue she retrieves from her tissue box.

"He used to compete," Chloe explains, sipping her coffee so she doesn't have to look at her coach. "I didn't even know a human being's legs could even more that fast. I wanted to be just like him, you know, but I didn't have that particular talent. I'm… more of a gymnast."

Dr Fabray hums softly around a bite of her muffin. "This is really good, Chloe," she says, sounding sincere. "A gymnast _and_ a baker, huh? Every girl's dream." She freezes as soon as the words come out. "Wow, okay, that sounded _way_ inappropriate. Forget I said that. I was just trying to open a door for you to walk through, but, wow. Just, wow."

Chloe can't help her giggle, because every moment with Dr Fabray makes her that much more real. "It's okay," she says. "I got what you meant."

Dr Fabray sighs, leaning back in her chair. "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

"Will it always feel like this?" Chloe asks, barely looking up at Quinn.

Quinn contemplates getting her to elaborate, but she's already aware of the direction their initial conversation was going the previous morning, so she decides against it. "No," she says, and she sounds certain in a way she thinks Chloe needs.

"Have - have you ever had feelings for a straight girl?"

Quinn almost laughs, but that would be cruel. "I have," she answers. "It's almost a rite of passage." She sips her coffee. "Have you done any reading on this?" she asks. "Not even any actual literature. Just anything, really. Other human stories. Of other experiences?"

Chloe blinks. "No?" She frowns. "Am I supposed to?"

"No," Quinn tells her. "Like I said, there's nothing you're _supposed_ to do. I just think it'll help. Especially if you're not ready to discuss it with anyone else."

Chloe's eyes widen. "Wow, yeah, definitely not ready for that."

"I think, one of the things I struggled with the most is wondering if I was the only person feeling the things I was," Quinn explains. "It was… years of feeling uncomfortable in my skin; knowing something wasn't quite right, and overcompensating in various other ways to combat that feeling of… being different. There was always a part of me that knew, though I wasn't really afforded the opportunity to confront it for what it was and actually acknowledge it as my truth until I graduated high school and found myself free and unburdened at college."

Chloe meets her gaze. "Do you think it'll be the same for me?"

"Perhaps," Quinn allows. "Perhaps not. Everyone is different. Every _experience_ is different, obviously, but I do think there are works out there that can help you." She smiles. "I've learned just how important representation actually is." She smiles to herself, because she's been able to put some of that representation into the Universe, and she _knows_ it's helped.

Chloe nods. "I mean, I've obviously watched movies and TV shows," she says. "But, it was - I was never - "

Quinn's smile is gentle. "It never really… concerned you before," she tries.

"Kind of," Chloe says. "Is it weird that I just never noticed? Like, it was all just part of the story. I was neither bothered or overly interested. It was all just _there_. Like, in _Grey's Anatomy_. It was all just a part of the show I was watching."

"That probably means they're doing a good job," Quinn says. "Giving queer characters stories that seem to integrate into everyday lives." She looks away for a moment. "And it's not weird. I told you everyone is different, and I'm of the belief that everyone figures it out exactly when they're supposed to."

"Did you have a… moment? Like, when it all clicked and you couldn't quite ignore it anymore?"

"I think I had a series of them," Quinn says. "But the most notable was the day my now-wife told me her boyfriend proposed to her and she was actually considering it."

Chloe's eyes widen.

Quinn breathes deeply. It's difficult trying to find a balance between what to share and what to ask. She knows Chloe's comfortable enough from her posture and genuine interest, and Quinn wants to be able to be someone she can talk to. It's just that there is a fine line, isn't there, and she's worried she might cross it? But, Rachel believes in her enough to know when too much is too much, so Quinn is going to trust in that.

"I watched her be with boys for years," Quinn finally says. "Her boyfriend at the time was actually my ex, if you can imagine."

Chloe's eyes are now as wide as saucers.

"Common trope you'll find," Quinn says with a naughty little grin. "The girls in a love triangle should always end up together."

Chloe laughs. "Makes so much sense," she says. "That'd probably make every TV show a lot more interesting. Gosh, can you imagine if Meredith and Addison ended up together instead?"

"Blair and Serena," Quinn adds.

"Peyton and Brooke."

Quinn wrinkles her nose.

"Please don't tell me you're actually a _Leyton_ shipper."

Quinn gasps, a hand pressed to her chest. "We are _Brucas_ all the way, in this house."

Chloe shakes her head in amusement. "What happened with the proposal?"

Quinn takes a moment to recall what she was actually talking about before they went off on their tangent. "Oh, right, well, she ended up saying yes," she explains, wincing at the memory. "It was - I didn't handle it well, at all. They were both so young, and she had all these dreams out of this town, and I used those as an excuse to fight against it. The problem is she's stubborn, and she was so determined to go through with it."

"Did she actually marry him?" Chloe asks, leaning forward in interest.

"No," Quinn answers. "No, she didn't."

"Because you told her how you felt?"

Quinn almost laughs. "Not quite," she answers, not willing to get into her car accident or the subsequent paralysis. It doesn't seem that important in the story as a whole, at the moment. "It just didn't happen."

And, bless her, Chloe seems to realise she's not going to get any more out of that story.

Quinn clears her throat. "We graduated high school, went to college, and I learned many things about myself," she says. "I think that's all I needed, really. A change of scenery, the right people around me and a certain acceptance within myself to explore actually being the person I was finally allowing myself to be."

Chloe blinks. "Is that what you would recommend?"

"Each person is different," Quinn says, ever the diplomat. "Your circumstances are different to the next person's. I was in a house that I knew wouldn't accept me, and I was in a position where being anything other than straight would have serious repercussions, so it made sense to keep it hidden at the time. It was different to my one friend, whose family always supported her bisexuality, or her girlfriend, who was actually forced out of the closet and had to deal with unsupportive family members. It is different for everyone."

Chloe audibly swallows. "I - I don't _want_ to keep it hidden, but I - " she stops, and breathes. "I almost feel as if I have to. Like, if I can just get through these next few months and I can get out of here, then I can - " she stops again. "It just seems _easier_ not to cause unnecessary ripples in my life right now."

Quinn regards her closely, not really believing Chloe's reasoning. She won't push, of course, but she's determined to help Chloe face her own truth, regardless if anyone knows. "If you're sure," she says.

Chloe hesitates, and Quinn wonders if she's thinking about the girl. "I'm sure."

Quinn nods. "Well, just know that my door is always open if you want to talk about it some more," she offers. "Or talk about something else, of course."

Chloe smiles, relieved, and Quinn is left to question if she's helped at all.

* * *

Unknown to both Chloe and Quinn, Beca and Rachel have their own odd heart-to-heart the following afternoon, after the Bellas have been dismissed and Beca can't bring herself to move. It isn't anything planned, but she stays behind anyway, and Rachel gives her the time and space to tell her whatever she likes to.

Beca knows Rachel and Quinn have dinner with Rachel's parents on Wednesday evenings, so she doesn't expect to take up too much of Rachel's time. She just thinks she'll probably lose her nerve if she doesn't address this now. Beca doesn't think she's been all that subtle about how she feels about Chloe, especially given the way Rachel has sent several curious looks their way. Beca knows Rachel won't question her, but she's made Beca repeatedly aware that she's available if ever Beca wants to talk.

Beca wants to talk.

She remains seated in one of the chairs, her fingers nervously fidgeting in her lap. She isn't normally one to feel this anxious, but she can't help it. "Rachel," she starts, and the woman hums to show she's listening, even if her attention is focused on what she's doing at the piano. "I think you've figured out who…" she trails off. "Who my crush is."

Rachel turns to another sheet of her music, and Beca appreciates the fact she's not looking at her. "I have an inkling, yes," she says; "But I wasn't going to bring it up until you did."

"Does Quinn know?"

"No," Rachel assures her. "Whatever you want to tell either of us is up to you, Bec. Whatever you want to tell anyone. I know you already know this."

And, the truth is that Beca _does_.

Rachel has told her before, and she knows not to apologise for her truth. It's just a lot easier said than done, and that's just _another_ truth she's going to have to accept. "I cried the first time I told someone," she confesses quietly. "I - I went to this sleepover when I was twelve, and there was this girl, Abigail, there, and I - I just knew, you know? Like, something about me would have led to some kind of conclusion at some point, anyway, but I figured it out for sure that night, and it was terrifying." She licks her lips. "My mom guessed something was up with me when I got home, but I denied it. She never could leave things be, though."

Rachel moves to sit on the chair beside Beca, saying nothing.

"I think she suspected what was going on, but she never explicitly asked me," Beca explains. "We used to do this thing, since I was little. Every night, before I went to sleep, she would come into my room and sit on the edge of my bed, regardless of whether I was even in it or not." She breathes slowly, the memories slightly overwhelming. "She would say, 'If I could make anything out of nothing, what would you want?' And I would always reply with, 'I would want you near.'" Her jaw clenches at the admission, as if it's never been her intention for the Universe to hear the words ever again, regardless of from whom they come. "It was so… stupid, and I can't even remember how we got started, but it was like our special little ritual."

Rachel opens her mouth as if to say some kind of rebuttal to Beca calling it stupid, but she thinks better of it, and her mouth closes again.

"I told her on a Friday," Beca continues, thankful for Rachel's silence. "We were having Chinese for dinner, spread out on the couch and watching terrible TV. It was so… normal. I - I didn't think she wouldn't accept me, but it was still so, so terrifying. I started crying before I could even get the words out, but I did, and she held me, but - but she didn't actually _say_ anything, and I remember going to bed that night confused and worried I had messed everything up for us. Like, what would happen to me if she didn't want me anymore? My dad had his new family, and I just had - she was all -

"Anyway, afterwards, I was up in my room, overthinking everything and freaking myself out, when she came in, sat on the edge of my bed and asked, 'If I could make anything out of nothing, what would you want?' and it was the first time I realised that the question was never actually about _my_ desires. It was about _hers_ : her desire to give me all I want, as my parent, and that was - it meant that nothing changed, and - God, Rachel, I just miss her so much."

Rachel places a hand on Beca's forearm, her fingers warm and present.

"She hid it from me when she first got sick," Beca explains, unable to look at Rachel. "She told me she had a big work thing coming up, and she sent me to stay with my grandmother. I learned that was the week she had her first surgery like weeks later, and I didn't find out at all until she already started treatment. It was - it wasn't good. It was horrible, actually. I - I remember the day she told me it was unlikely she would survive it, and it is burned into my memory as one of the worst days of my life. She was so calm, pale and fragile and so beautiful, but always so steady. It was so frustrating sometimes. I wanted her to get angry with me, but she just never did. She was never anything but calm, and I think she'd known for a long while that the treatment wouldn't work. Maybe even from the beginning.

"She asked me - she asked me that ridiculous question, and I told her I would want her to live, which turned into an entire lecture about how life does not always give us our desires, though we must still remember to ask for them." She laughs a little sadly. "That happened a lot, you know? Any random conversation could end up with some kind of lecture on something completely unrelated. But, God, that day, I was so mad. _So_ _mad_ , Rachel. It - it was like she was just giving up; just leaving me, and - and the reality of it all was that she was right. She was always right.

"The entire time she was sick, my dad never once came to see her," Beca says, and she sounds bitter, her voice laced with a type of loathing she didn't think she could ever feel. "When she realised we were nearing the end, she had to make plans for me, and that's when it was decided I would come and live with my dad. She asked me if she should or could tell him about the whole liking girls things, and I agreed, because I needed to know for myself. I don't really know how the conversation went, but I knew this was where I would be coming when it was time." She blinks back unexpected tears, not one to show this much emotion. "It - it was as if she held out for the summer, giving me a few days of just me and her and no school, and then I woke up on a Tuesday morning, and I could _feel_ that she was gone."

Rachel shifts her hand, and then wraps an arm around Beca's shoulders, drawing her closer.

"I wish - I just - I want to be able to _talk_ to her again," Beca says, her voice catching. "She - she tried to prepare me for what it would be like coming to live with him. She told me it would be different; that he was busy with his job and his new family, and it's just a few years before I turn eighteen and get access to what she left behind for me, but - but - it's so much worse, Rachel. It - it just sucks _."_

While Beca expects Rachel to say something _now_ , she's surprised when Rachel just sits with her, quiet and present, a hand rubbing small circles on her upper arm.

"I'm sorry," Beca finally says, starting to feel embarrassed. "I'm sure you didn't sign up for any of this."

Rachel hums. "To be honest, I'm still unsure what I did sign up for," she confesses. "I don't even remember if there was a signup sheet at all."

Beca chuckles, because Rachel can be so weird.

"And, please don't apologise," Rachel says, so softly that anybody else in the room wouldn't have heard her if they weren't so alone. "This isn't some… chore for me, you know? I get the feeling you're not one to open up all that often - "

"Total opposite to you," Beca interjects.

Rachel ignores her. "But you're a lot like Quinn, and I've had decades to figure her out." She smiles a little proudly. "That isn't to say I know everything, because that woman is definitely an enigma." She sighs. "But a beautiful one."

Beca audibly swallows. "Is - is it normal to want what you two have?" she asks, and then immediately wishes she didn't.

Rachel squeezes her once, and then removes her arm before getting to her feet. She walks to retrieve her phone, and then returns to Beca's side. "Quinn and I have known each other since we were fourteen," she explains. "We have been _everything_ to each other in the past twenty-six years, experienced far too much for two people who decided being together was going to be worth it. I don't want to scare you, Bec, but not all of it has been easy. Quinn and I are… complicated people. She's broken in ways, and so am I, but we've found a way to fill in all the broken pieces in the other, and it _is_ a beautiful thing, so I think it is normal to want something like that."

Beca listens with rapt attention, convinced she's going to learn something important.

"We had this massive fight a few weeks before our wedding," Rachel explains. "Huge. Honestly, I didn't think we would even make it to the aisle after that. It - it started because we were trying to decide on our menu for the reception. It was actually so stupid, but we hadn't fought like that in a while, and we were both just so stressed out about everything, and it exploded into something ugly."

Beca can barely imagine it, but she can't shake the feeling there's an underlying cruelty to Quinn that can show itself when she's pushed into a corner. "What happened?"

"Quinn went to stay with our friends," Rachel explains, dropping her gaze to her phone's screen as she looks for something. "We didn't speak for five days. We're both stubborn, you see, and I was convinced I could hold out for longer."

"Did you?"

Rachel laughs softly. "I did, actually," she says. "She sent a single text to me, and I've kept it with me all these years." She hands the phone to Beca, who reads it quickly.

 _Rachel, I love you. It's really as simple as that. I'm sorry for whatever I said, because you have to know I never meant it. I never mean it. Just, what I do know is this isn't a You versus Me, okay? This is a 'You and Me' versus Problem, and I am here for it. For forever_.

Beca breathes out, handing the phone back to Rachel.

"I read that whenever things get hard with us," Rachel explains. "Makes me remember I'm not alone, and I no longer have to be. Sometimes, you just need the reminder." She ducks her head a little to be able to meet Beca's clouded gaze. "Same goes for you, Beca," she says. "Maybe it's not the same, but you _do_ have us, okay?"

Beca nods, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Rachel smiles, sad but sure. "We'll be wherever you would want us to be," she says, and the specific words she uses are triggering.

Beca meets her gaze. "Even if I would want you near?"

"Especially then."

* * *

Quinn is just leaving her classroom the next day, when Chloe pops out of nowhere and hands her a piece of paper. "What's this?" she asks, already taking it from her.

"Possible places to go dancing," Chloe informs her, and then spins around and bounces down the corridor, Quinn watching with a bemused expression until she's completely out of sight.

Well then.

Guess they're going dancing.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN** : Rest in peace, power and paradise, Naya Rivera 💛

* * *

**IX**

If possible, the callbacks for the musical run even more smoothly than the auditions.

Rachel can't help but wonder what they could have accomplished if the rest of her own class year had decided to take the Arts this seriously when they were in school. Just thinking about it too much angers her, and that's the last thing she needs while making critical theatre decisions.

When it's all over, she meets with Devon Maxwell from the Drama Department, and they make the final decisions together. Benji is the star as Evan Hansen, which they barely even need to discuss. Jesse Swanson as Connor Murphy, and Emily Junk as Zoe Murphy also make the cut, and she makes those assignments easily.

The talent on offer is immense, and Rachel makes a note to speak with Emily about possibly joining the Bellas. They still have a few days before they have to submit their team list for competition, and having more _competent_ singers is always better than not.

December is rushing at them now, and the thing Rachel is so worried about is doing all she can to create the best Christmas for their children. She knows it's been an adjustment to get used to their new lives in Lima. Things are slower in this town, and their mothers are working different hours, and there's everything happening with their grandfathers.

It's a lot, and Rachel wants to make it as special as she physically can.

There's also the added realisation that Quinn needs a retreat. It isn't the first time, and Rachel has never held it against her. It's come at a time Rachel could have expected, but it doesn't mean she's not going to lament over the timing. It makes the most sense, of course, and she's going to be supportive, but she's going to miss her.

Rachel always misses her.

Even when she's sitting right next to her.

With a sigh, Rachel reaches for her phone and pulls up Quinn's contact. She knows Quinn is probably just leaving the field, possibly already moved on to Mia's karate. Rachel knows she's supposed to pick up Matty and meet them at the dojo, but it doesn't stop her from hitting the Call button and waiting for Quinn to answer.

She gets Emma instead.

"Hi, Ma," Emma says, and she sounds a little breathless. "Mom is just helping Mia get ready, but she's almost done."

"Hi, Sweets," Rachel says, leaning back in her chair and smiling at the sound of her daughter's voice. "That's okay, I can wait. How was practice?"

"It was cool," Emma says. "We practiced penalty kicks today. Mom says I have nerves of steel."

 _"Supergirl_ , huh?"

"She said I'm like you," Emma says proudly. "You never let the nerves get to you."

"Doesn't mean I still don't feel them, though," Rachel points out, because that's always been important. Ignoring the nerves, instead of embracing them, can be equally detrimental.

"She said that's the most important part," Emma lets her know, and Rachel smiles at the fact Quinn seems to remember that, as well. "Hey, Ma?"

"Em?"

"Does this mean you're going to miss every Thursday now?"

Rachel closes her eyes at the sound of the question, feeling a little overwhelmed by the guilt that floods through her, because this _is_ the second Thursday she's missed in a row.

She knows it's not the end of the world. Emma has only soccer practice on Thursday, and it's impossible to imagine Rachel would be able to make it to every practice for the rest of their lives, but the idea that she could be disappointing her daughter hurts.

"I think so, Sweets," Rachel tells her. "It's the best time I can set aside for the musical."

"Oh," Emma says. "Cool."

Rachel frowns. "Is - is that okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Rachel cannot possibly explain the feeling swirling in her chest, wondering if it won't even matter to Emma that she's not there. Is that even better or worse than disappointing her?

"I know it's not your favourite thing to do," Emma says, a little too casually, and Rachel closes her eyes, because Emma isn't supposed to know that. "As long as you're there for my games, I don't mind, Ma. It can be boring, I know."

"Sweetheart, that's not - "

"Oh, here's Mom," Emma interrupts, already passing on the phone. "Hold on."

There's a bit of shuffling, and then Quinn's voice is saying, "Hello, you."

Rachel can't match her tone, delighted and soft as it usually is whenever they actually speak on the phone. "Hey," she says, forcing herself to her feet. "I just wanted to let you know I'm about to leave."

Quinn is silent for a moment, and Rachel just knows her wife's Spidey senses are tingling. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. Too quickly.

"Rachel," Quinn says, sounding a little exhausted herself. "I can hear it in your voice, you know? I've known you since we were fourteen, so I can tell when something's wrong. What's on your mind?"

Rachel sighs heavily, ceasing movement. "Did - did Emma even miss me today?"

Quinn is quiet for a moment. "She always misses you, Rachel," she says.

"Tell me the truth, Quinn."

Quinn sighs. "She asked about you, of course, and I told her you wouldn't be able to make it. That's really all there is to it. She had a practice to participate in, and she's now aware Thursday is going to be a practice with only me in attendance from now on."

Rachel blinks repeatedly. "Is it normal to feel as if I'm letting her down?"

"I think you and Emma have a complicated relationship that isn't complicated at all," Quinn tells her. "Soccer isn't a thing you share, and there's nothing wrong with that. I know she appreciates our peanut gallery, but she also understands you and I both have other commitments. I arrive late on Thursdays, if you recall."

Rachel licks her lips. "She's okay?"

"She's totally fine."

"Okay," Rachel breathes. "Okay, yeah, I'm sorry I'm such a nutcase."

"I still love you."

"What a Good Samaritan," Rachel deadpans.

"I did marry you, after all."

Rachel exaggerates a gasp. "Wow, Quinn Fabray. I never."

"Get your cute butt here," Quinn says around a gentle laugh. "Your kid is about to perform a takedown of epic proportions."

Rachel starts moving again, suddenly eager to lay eyes on her family. "You know, now that we're basically turning Mia into a killing machine; I'm going to end up terrified of both our daughters."

The last thing she hears before the call ends is the sound of Quinn's joyful laughter.

* * *

Chloe likes to think she has a handle on everything, but even she can't quite anticipate her reaction to the sight of Beca excitedly - Chloe didn't even know Beca _could_ get excited - talking to the new Bella Dr Berry introduces, which just does things to her.

Her name is Emily Junk, a Freshman just cast in the musical, and Dr Berry has some big ideas for their Sectional performances that now seem to include her.

"We have to do something spectacular," Dr Berry says, and then glances to the left a little guiltily. "I know I mentioned that little... feud I've been having with Mr St James before, and I don't want to be the type who takes that kind of bait, but, goodness, it would feel _so good_ to wipe that smug look off his face."

There's a bit of laughter that allows Chloe's eyes to seek out Beca, once more. The girl is reading through some sheet music, probably on the hunt for what their third and final song is going to be. Without anyone explicitly saying so, Beca seems to have taken on some kind of role that ensures she participates in those kinds of decisions.

Beca wears music production so well.

The thing is the rest of their set is already pretty rehearsed, so Chloe doesn't know how they're supposed to integrate Emily into the harmonies and choreography in such a short time before the competition. Aubrey actually voices her concern, though her reluctance is far less than any of the hostility she aims at Beca.

Dr Berry just smiles, knowing in a way that settles some of their misgivings. "Did I ever tell you about our Sectionals' performance my sophomore year?" she questions, already knowing the answer. "We showed up at the competition to find out that the other groups had actually stolen our set list and ended up performing before us."

Chloe's eyes widen. Whoa.

"We had to learn new songs on the day," Dr Berry says. "So, you know, I reckon we can handle a little alteration. You guys are professionals."

Cynthia-Rose snorts at the sound of that, and Beca rolls her eyes.

Then, Dr Berry says, "Chloe, can you and Aubrey help Emily get up to speed?" and Chloe is left with little choice but to interact with this human being who has managed to get Beca… excited.

It's not jealousy, Chloe doesn't think.

She's not… a jealous person.

Though, even she has to accept that the person she thought she was isn't actually the person she is, which is sobering enough that she's determined to keep trying.

Still, Chloe _is_ an open, happy person on the average day. She's friendly and bright and involved, but the year as a whole has drained her in ways she wasn't sure she would ever actually let the world get to her, and Emily is -

Emily is wonderful. She's young and willing and curious and she picks it all up so quickly that, by the end of their practice, they can get through their songs as seamlessly as they managed before her arrival. Which Chloe reasons is something Dr Berry already suspected would happen.

They even get started on what Dr Berry calls their 'showstopper,' and she looks particularly thoughtful as she shifts Cynthia-Rose to the front and tells her, "This is going to be your song," with the kind of intensity that takes the Sophomore a moment to register.

Somehow, for whatever reason, Chloe just knows there's no way the Treblemakers are going to beat them.

Chloe catches Beca's eye then, and Beca offers her a knowing smile that's small and genuine and so perfect.

And obviously meant just for _her_.

Goodness.

What could Chloe ever be worried about?

* * *

"Judy's staring at you again."

Rachel looks up from where she's just sent off an email to her agent to follow Maria's gaze across the field. It's obvious Judy isn't actually here for the Beansprouts' game against the Bell Peppers, her eyes rather switching between the bleachers where Rachel sits with Mia and Matty, Quinn patrolling the sidelines and Emma streaking across the field.

"I won't ask, obviously," Maria says, her own eyes on where Matty is playing with a pair of cars on the grass in front of them; "but I am an educated woman, and I've reached several conclusions."

Rachel manages a smile, even though her body is stiff. "Well, what are your theories, Giorgi?"

Maria laughs softly. "It's not as if it's hard," she says. "Quinn and Judy look remarkably alike."

Rachel shifts in her seat, breathing deeply. "It is… complicated," she finally says. "We haven't actually - we haven't even _seen_ her in years. Not since before we got married. We're unsure how to handle any of it."

Maria hums softly, her eyes drifting from Matty to the field where Christina now has the ball, sending it forward with the kind of precision that's been improved through some additional coaching from Quinn. It reaches Phillip, and he holds it up long enough for Emma to take it from him, fake left to send the defender to the floor, and then unleash a shot that nestles in the bottom left corner of the goal.

Quinn raises her arms in celebration, jumping in place, and Rachel gets to her own feet to applaud the team goal, their daughter doing a small lap to high-five Quinn on the edge of the field. Rachel hears Quinn say, "That was great, Em, just keep at it," and she feels her heart swell with pride at the both of them.

When the excitement has died down and the game has resumed, Maria says, "I have a tricky relationship with my own mother."

"I do, too," Rachel reveals, just quiet enough not to be an actual interruption.

"I don't think I would know how to handle it if she just showed up at my child's soccer game," Maria says, blinking a few times.

"You mentioned that you know Judy?"

"Only in passing," Maria lets her know. "I'm more familiar with Frannie."

Rachel presses her lips together. "Quinn is under the impression Judy wants to know her grandchildren, and she's willing to... deal with that, as it were, even though Judy made it clear years ago that she wanted nothing to do with _us_."

Maria sits very still. "Do you think she might have had a change of heart?"

Rachel resists the urge to scoff. "As in, one day, she sees her grandchildren, and then decides we're worth knowing all of a sudden?" she asks, and she can't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "If she happened to have some kind of change of heart before that, she's known where to find us. It's pretty easy, if you actually go looking."

Maria looks at her, eyes searching. "Why do I get the feeling you're more angry about this than Quinn is?"

Rachel's jaw clenches. "I - I was the one who had to see her," she says; " _after_." She shakes her head, trying to clear it of the darker memories. "After Quinn came out to her. After she rejected her own daughter... for loving _me_. I had to see what that did to Quinn; what it _still_ does to Quinn, even today. I have been her family for years, Maria. Me. Just me, with my own parents and our friends, and - and Judy doesn't just get to come in here and shake things up just because she wants to. That's not how it works. It isn't."

Maria places a hand on Rachel's forearm, managing to calm her, but she doesn't get the chance to say anything, because the crowd erupts in celebration once again.

Rachel's gaze snaps to the field, where Emma has scored a second goal in as many minutes. The same defender from earlier is, once again, on the floor, and, instead of feeling the joy the goal should bring, Rachel can't help her worry.

Quinn glances over her shoulder at her once the game restarts, and their shared look is heavy with understanding. They already know they're probably going to have to move Emma to an advanced team, or they're going to start getting complaints from the other parents. It's no secret Emma is too good for this age group. It was bound to prove a problem at some point, but there's just something in the air today.

Also, no boy actually likes getting shown up by a girl.

* * *

It happens after the halftime break.

Beca is busy texting Chloe and CR, her attention split between her phone and what's happening on the field. The Beansprouts are demolishing the poor opposing team, and Beca would feel sorry for them if Aaron wasn't obviously having the time of his life, having scored his own goal just minutes ago. Also, Emma is kind of too hot to handle, and she seems to have picked a particular defender to target, always just able to get past him.

It's minutes later that Emma scores her third goal - which Beca now knows is called a hat-trick, hah - that it happens. Beca hears the crowd cheer for a fraction of a second, her head lifting, before it falls to complete, shocked silence. Her brow furrows, because, instead of running off to celebrate like she usually does, Emma is on the ground clutching her leg, and that defender is standing over her, looking enraged.

A beat later, Quinn is running onto the field and kneeling at Emma's side, who is obviously crying. Then, Rachel is also there, taking over in time for Quinn to rise to her feet and glare at the referee. Beca can't quite make out what she's saying - not initially, at least - but it's pretty obvious she's not happy about something.

"That is a red card offence," Quinn says, hotly and loudly. "You cannot honestly tell me that doesn't count as a red card."

The referee looks as if he's shaking in his boots, and Beca doesn't blame him. Quinn is terrifying like this. "I'm saying that we - we don't have red cards."

"So, what? Some kid is just supposed to get away with _kicking_ my daughter because… what? This League doesn't have the backbone to make it clear this kind of behaviour isn't right?"

"Ma'am, I don't - there is nothing I can do."

"Nothing?" Quinn barks. "You're going to let him stay on the field?"

"It was - he was - it was nothing," the referee says, and seems to regret it immediately, because something very significant happens to her face. "I just mean, you know, there's no need to be so drastic," he tries. "Boys will be boys and all that."

Quinn straightens to her full height. "Are you trying to tell me that the consequences would have been different if a _girl kicked my daughter_ instead?" she asks, and her tone is so, so calm that Beca can feel the danger lurking from all the way over here. "And I would be very careful how you answer this question, Paul, because I am cataloguing everything you say right now for when I address it with the League's representatives."

The man gulps audibly, and is visibly relieved when the Beansprouts' coach approaches the standoff, hands held up placatingly. Quinn also looks a little relieved, right until the moment the coach says, "Quinn, I don't think it's a good idea to blow this incident out of proportion."

Quinn takes a step back. "Out of proportion," she echoes, her tone dangerous to anyone with a pair of ears. "I'm sorry, but are you seriously telling me _not_ to react when someone actually kicks my child? Because, I'm certain that's not what you're saying."

"Well, you're overreacting - "

Quinn steps into the coach's space. "Martin, I can assure you that this is not my overreacting," she says, and she sounds deadly. "This is my demanding that some action be taken. It is not fair and it is not right that kicking out in frustration can just be excused with no repercussions, because my experience tells me this is only the beginning of a dangerous pattern if the behaviour isn't corrected."

Martin sighs. "Look, we'll have Justin apologise to Emma, okay? Then we can get on with the game."

"No."

Martin blinks, exchanging a look with the referee, and Beca feels her heart rate rise. "No?"

Quinn folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want him on the field," she says.

Beside her, Beca's father grumbles. "Why is she dragging this out?" he asks. "We can just get back to the game."

Beca turns to look at him. "Are you saying it's okay?" she asks, trying to keep the incredulity out of her voice. "That it doesn't matter that Emma is hurt?"

"She's fine," David dismisses.

Beca clenches her jaw. "So, what, you wouldn't be out there demanding the same if it happened to me?" she asks, and then visibly pauses. "Well, you obviously wouldn't," she mutters; "I should be asking if you would do the same for Aaron."

"Beca," he sighs.

"No," she presses. "Would you or would you not be livid if some kid actually kicked your son for no other reason than he's a better player?"

He doesn't seem to have a response for her, and her attention switches back to the field, where it seems the 'discussion' has attracted the boy's parents as well. It's threatening to turn into a shouting match, but Quinn stands her ground.

"Does he even realise what he did was wrong?" Quinn suddenly asks. "Or are you just going to say it's okay and hope it doesn't happen again?" Her glare is piercing. "It shouldn't even matter that they're nine and ten years old. Because, add on ten years to their ages, and this would be assault."

That shuts them all up.

Quinn glances behind her, and Beca sees Rachel standing with a red-faced Emma, who is favouring her one leg over the other. She turns back to the referees. "I want him off this field," she says again. "A fitting punishment for something you seem to think means nothing."

The referee looks helpless. "I can't do that," he says.

Quinn hums. "I see," she says. "So, he gets to continue playing, while my daughter has to hobble off injured… and that's just okay?"

"I don't make the rules," the referee says.

"No, you just enforce them, right?" she questions. "When you know, without a doubt, just how wrong it is?"

The referee says nothing.

"Like a coward."

Rachel steps up to Quinn, resting a hand on her back. "Quinn, let's just go," she says, her voice tense, even though it looks as if she's forcing herself to stay calm. "Emma wants to go home."

Quinn visibly deflates at the touch and the words. "Okay, I'll be right there," she says over her shoulder, and then stares at the pair of men in front of her, finding the words through her obvious disappointment. Her rage seems to have settled into something like a simmer, but she's never going to forgive or forget this moment.

Quinn knows Justin is just a boy, but it's a pattern building she won't allow her daughter to be part of.

"I want you to know that you have failed my daughter today," Quinn says. "It's as simple as that. So, you all can try to forget it ever happened, but I can assure you I will not. Believe me when I say I will be making sure the people who _do_ make the rules are informed." She looks at the coach. "As for you, Martin, I'm more disappointed than I thought I would be. Emma is supposed to be your player to _protect_. But, well, you needn't worry about that anymore." She turns, sharp and quick, and addresses Emma, "You okay to walk, Sweets?"

Emma nods, holding out her hand for Quinn to take, and then the three of them hobble off the field in silence. Beca watches it all, unsure how she feels about what's just happened.

If she's reading Quinn right, Emma is no longer a part of this team.

Which, well, yeah.

That isn't something Beca even wants to entertain right now.

Beca keeps her eyes on them, even as the game tries to get restarted behind them. They approach the bleachers where Mia and Matty are sitting with Christina's mother. Quinn makes Emma sit, and then looks her over herself, checking her leg for the extent of the injury. The way she worries over Emma causes something to turn in Beca's chest, and she resists the urge to look away.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Quinn suggests, soft and soothing. "Get some pizza and ice cream on the way home."

Emma nods, looking glum.

Quinn kisses her forehead, eyes closing. "I'm sorry, Sweets," she says softly, and Beca has to look away this time. Rachel is busy packing things up beside them, and then Christina's mother starts doing the same with all her things, prompting Rachel to stop.

"What are you doing?"

"As if Christina is going to remain a part of this," the woman says, and Beca's chest warms at the sound of the words. Rachel just stares, a little dumbfounded, as Christina's mother steps towards the edge of the pitch and calls for Christina - who, to be fair, was almost waiting for the call.

 _That_ turns into another complication when Christina's mother demands for her daughter not be part of such an unjust game, and both the referee and Martin try to get her to calm enough to see reason.

Which, well, she's seeing pretty clearly, it seems.

Then Aaron - sweet, adorable, heartbreaking Aaron - also storms off the pitch, quickly followed by Steph, which basically prompts a mass exodus of tiny soccer players, and Beca practically bursts with pride.

"What is he doing?" David asks, and Beca can't help her grin. Her little brother is someone magnificent, she's decided, and Beca gets to her feet before jumping down the few steps to join the small gathering.

Aaron grins when he sees her, and then almost skips towards her. He's sweaty and a little gross, but she hugs him close, so very proud of him, as she ruffles his damp hair.

Quinn looks a little overwhelmed by everything, and Beca wonders if she ever imagined she and Emma would ever get that amount of support. The game has essentially come to an end, and the referee is claiming that the Beansprouts would be forfeiting the game if the players don't return, and Martin is trying to get the team back onto the field.

It is chaos, and it is _awesome_.

Beca loves every second of it.

* * *

Quinn doesn't know how it happens, but she somehow ends up having to feed nearly an entire team of hungry, sweaty, excited nine and ten-year-olds pizza and ice cream for lunch. She thinks even the restaurant is overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, but she doesn't mind so much, because Emma is smiling and that's all that really matters right now.

Well, her bank account might complain later, but who cares?

She still doesn't know how she ended up here, though. There are other parents around, looking equally unsure, but the kids are currently in charge, and Quinn is willing to give this to her daughter. Especially after the day she's just had.

Maria even hangs around, calling her husband to make sure Val is picked up from school when his team gets back from their away game. Quinn realises she stays as something of support, claiming her position as the second in line in the revolt, and most of the parents only allow any of this to happen because of her, Quinn is sure.

Then there's Beca, who looks so amused by everything, and Quinn almost wants to duck into the bathroom and just catch her breath. She's still tense, quietly raging over just what's happened to get them here. She's disappointed, even a little in herself, and she's already drafting a strongly worded letter to the League's representatives.

Add on the fact she's probably going to have to find Emma a new team… which, okay, Quinn is _already_ on the ball about that. But now Emma's made all these friends, who care about her enough to forfeit their own game, and Quinn doesn't know if she's willing to take Emma out of this environment, because this is exactly what she wants for her -

Quinn startles at the feel of a familiar hand at her elbow.

"Stop thinking so damn loud," Rachel says, fingers curling around her arm. "Just enjoy it."

Quinn sighs. "Did I overreact?" she asks quietly.

"I definitely would have rugby tackled the man, so I think you did well, baby."

"I basically did them a favour, is what you're saying," Quinn muses, trying desperately to find some kind of humour in all of this.

"Exactly."

Quinn turns her body to face her. "We are part of a revolution," she says, a little too seriously.

"Wouldn't be our first one," Rachel reminds her. "Do I have to point out the kind of crazy things you got up to at Yale?"

"That won't be necessary."

"One day, I'm going to tell our kids what a trailblazer their mommy is."

"They wouldn't even believe you."

Rachel nudges her with her hip, a small grin on her face. "Oh, I think they will."

* * *

Chloe is lazying about on her bed when she gets the phone call. Receiving calls isn't anything out of the ordinary, but it is unexpected, and she frowns as she reaches for her phone and sees Beca's Caller ID staring back at her. Her heart rate skyrockets, because Beca has been a little out of reach all day, and now she's calling.

Beca is calling.

 _Chloe, answer the phone_.

Taking a deep breath, Chloe does just that, and says, "Hello," as calmly as she can manage.

"Chloe," Beca says, her voice light in a way Chloe's never heard. "You will never guess what happened today."

Chloe's smile spreads across her face. "Are you calling me just to tell me about your day?" she asks, sounding amused.

Beca seems to hesitate. "Um, yes," she says. "Is that okay? Are you busy?"

"I'm all yours," Chloe says, and her own heart stutters at the sound of her words.

 _Whoa there, Beale_.

Beca laughs softly, relieved. "My brother is a total badass," she says, and Chloe feels a pang in her chest, because her brother was pretty awesome, as well. "There was total anarchy at his soccer game today. It was epic."

Chloe has to laugh with her, because she has no option right now. "What happened?"

"So, Emma - that's Dr Berry's daughter - is this super soccer sensation, I swear, and she was tearing it up the field, but this other kid on the other team wasn't for that, and he kind of kicked her, and there was this whole big fight with the coach and the referee because they wouldn't send the other kid off, and then Emma came off, and then Christina followed and Aaron too and then all the kids, and then we all went for pizza and ice cream."

Now, Chloe has had a number of out-of-body experiences in her short life, and this is definitely one of them. "I - I have literally never heard you say that many words."

"Oh, right, sorry, I'm a little hopped up on sugar," Beca explains, calming slightly. "My mom used to keep an eye on how much sugar I eat because of it, but I went a little overboard today."

"The ice cream?"

"I love mint chocolate," Beca admits.

Chloe winces, because that might be a dealbreaker. "Beca, no," she groans, covering her eyes with her forearm.

Beca laughs. "Not a fan?"

"Rocky Road all the way."

"Dude."

"Don't even deny it," Chloe warns playfully, and she's amazed they've been able to have this kind of conversation when the ones they have in person can be so... just, not as easy. It's almost as if they both have really important things to tell each other, but they just can't bring themselves to take the plunge.

"I reckon you and Aaron would get along," Beca muses after a moment.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you both obviously have the palette of a nine-year-old," Beca jokes; "but you're also passionate about the things you believe in."

"Music?"

"And the Bellas as a whole," Beca says, and her voice has dropped in volume. "It's different with you, because it's not just about the music. It's also about the people, and that's kind of the way it is with Aaron and his soccer. He loves his sport - like, it's kind of gross, he'd probably marry it if he could - but he loves his team more." Beca falls silent. "I've never really been a part of something this way."

Chloe doesn't even know what to do with all the words Beca has given her. "You're the lone wolf type, huh?"

"I think I'm starting to accept those days might be behind me," Beca says, sounding amused. "CR is practically blackmailing me to hang out with her tomorrow."

"Ah, is that how one makes friends with Beca Mitchell?" Chloe teases.

"I guess?" Beca answers, sounding unsure. "I wasn't sure what to expect when I moved here. I was determined to endure the years I had to, but, well..." she trails off.

Chloe hums. "Now it's less enduring and more enjoying?"

"I think my fourteen year old self would keel over if ever I admitted to _enjoying_ anything," Beca says, tone deadpan.

Chloe laughs, quietly marvelling at the fact she gets to experience this side of Beca. She suspects things will be different on Monday, or even tomorrow, but she's going to soak up this version that is open and talkative and excitable.

 _Emily who, people_?

"So, if I wanted to hang out with you and _not_ enjoy myself, how would I go about doing that?" Chloe asks, feeling brave. She's never really been one not to go after whatever or whomever she wants, and Chloe wants Beca.

In a friend capacity, at least.

Chloe can handle that much.

Admitting it is half the battle, isn't it?

"You - you want to hang out with me?" Beca asks, and there's a hint of disbelief in her tone. "Like, for reasons not related to the Bellas?"

Chloe breathes out. "Of course," she says. "Why wouldn't I?"

Beca hesitates. "Because you're Chloe Beale," she says; "and I'm just... me."

"Well, I happen to like you," Chloe finds herself saying. "I - I'm sorry if I've been... blowing hot and cold. I just - " she stops, a little tongue-tied. It is such a foreign thing for her. "I'd like us to be friends, Beca," she finally says.

Beca is silent on the other end.

"And friends hang out, right?" Chloe continues, a little nervous. "Beca?"

"I'm here," Beca says, a slight croak in her voice. "Yeah, I mean, friends hang out. We can totally do that."

"Awesome."

Beca waits a beat. "Yeah."

* * *

As far as blackmail goes, threatening to play _Barbie Girl_ on repeat really shouldn't work, but Beca has actual nightmares about that song.

It's really no great pains to spend Sunday afternoon with CR instead of in her bedroom, anyway. CR even picks her up, refusing to tell Beca where they're going until they pull into the parking lot of the closest mall.

"We're hitting the arcade," CR finally tells her. "You look like you could use some cheering up."

"Don't I always?" Beca drawls.

"Exactly."

Beca sighs, accepting it as truth. She's been in a rather dull mood since she got off the phone with Chloe. She doesn't actually know what she was thinking just calling her out of the blue like that. She _was_ excited, and she did have news she wanted to share, and the first person she thought of was Chloe.

Who wants to hang out with her.

As a friend.

It's safe to say Beca is deeply conflicted about what to feel about it. Elated they could actually hang out, but a little heartsore that this line seems to be drawn in the sand between them. Beca isn't naïve enough not to know the pains of liking a straight girl, and she's already accepted it's unlikely anything _could_ happen with Chloe. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Because it does.

Beca already has plans to talk to Rachel about it; just because she needs to talk to someone about it. Crushes are hard enough without knowing for sure nothing could ever come of it… and Beca thinks Rachel might actually know a little something about that.

CR bumps Beca's shoulder. "Are you okay, though?" she asks, her tone soft in a way Beca's never heard.

Beca frowns slightly. It's foreign to her to have the kind of friends who seem to care beyond her music and general stay-away-from-me vibes. "I - well, not really," she admits quietly, and CR doesn't say anything in response. "But I think I will be."

At that, CR does smile. "Well, hell yeah, you will," she says as she throws an arm around Beca's shoulders and guides her towards their destination. "You're with me now, White Girl."

* * *

Quinn grins when she hears Maria say, "Behave," to her husband, and she gets a hand to the abdomen from Rachel for her troubles.

It's the first of what Quinn knows Rachel hopes will be many dinners between the Berry-Fabray and Giorgi families, and Quinn has also been tasked with being on her best behaviour.

Rachel and Maria are the ones who have arranged this Sunday night feast, and, after all the excitement of the day before, Quinn is kind of looking forward to an easy evening.

Well.

Maria introduces the family to Joe, her very Italian husband, who has a booming voice and a friendly smile, and Val, her teenage son who looks a little star struck at having two very beautiful women standing in their living room.

Quinn thinks she would probably have far too much fun messing with him, but Rachel shoots her a look, and her wife really just kills all the fun.

Joe shakes both of their hands, and then says, "So, you're the one who introduced my wife to _Twitter_ ," to Quinn, and she laughs in response.

"Totally not cool," Val adds. "She's a total fandom Mom now."

Quinn grins. "As in more than one?" she asks.

"She's obsessed with Lucy Quinn's books," Val reveals, gesturing at a bookshelf behind him, and Quinn's eyes widen at the sheer number of novels that carry her name. Some are even duplicates.

"Wow," she says, because she had no idea Maria was _this much of_ a fan. It's probably the greatest thing she's ever seen.

Val hums, subtly glancing at her, before biting the bullet and saying, "She totally refuses to see that Billie and Mae are going to end up together."

That piques Quinn's curiosity, and she's vaguely aware of Rachel and Maria disappearing into the kitchen, Emma and Christina rushing outside, and Joe entertaining a giggling Matty while Mia watches on with her big green eyes.

"Why do you say that?" Quinn asks, unable to help herself. It's the direction she's headed in, definitely, but she thinks she's done well in keeping her intentions hidden.

It's the number one reason her agent wants her to sign on for the television show _now_ , because she's afraid they'll get cold feet when Quinn makes the relationship canon.

"I mean, besides the gay subtext," Val says, entirely too casually; "Billie's favourite soccer player is Tobin Heath."

And, Quinn laughs. She can't possibly not, because _seriously_.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Val says. "It's basically the perfect slow burn." He visibly pauses, as if he's making a very important decision. "It's what we deserve."

Quinn freezes, her eyes sliding towards him.

Val forces himself to shrug, though she can still see how nervous he looks. It is never easy offering up that part of oneself. "I figure you wouldn't tell anyone," he says quietly.

"You just met me."

Val just shrugs again, though it's less forced. "You're both kind of the only reason I feel more comfortable with maybe telling my parents," he says. "It doesn't matter if we just met. You're already an important part of my story."

Quinn is not going to get emotional. She's not. Nope. Not today.

Val smiles at her, and then clears his throat. "Chris hasn't shut up about your soccer skills. I'm pretty sure she's exaggerating."

Quinn gasps. Who is this kid? "Think you're funny, huh?" she says, and then gestures for him to lead the way outside. "I've actually met Tobin Heath, you know?"

* * *

"Quinn was going to make lasagna," Rachel informs Maria; "but she got a little shy at the thought of bringing it to an Italian home, so she made her famous potato au gratin instead."

Maria laughs where she's stirring some kind of red sauce. "It smells divine, either way," she says.

"And the kids and I baked cookies," Rachel adds, sipping at the red wine Maria's poured for her. It's odd, just how comfortable she already feels in this house. New people and new places tend to make her nervous, but there's something about this family that seems to have welcomed them.

Accepted them.

After some prodding, of course.

Rachel looks out the kitchen window to where everyone else has congregated in the backyard. The sun hasn't quite set yet, its rays catching on Quinn's golden hair as she keeps the soccer ball from both Emma and Christina. Val is doubled over in laughter and Matty is perched on Joe's shoulders as he and Mia cheer them on.

Their backyard is set up like a small field, with actual goalposts on either side, and Rachel imagines Joe and Maria have invested quite a bit in both equipment and training for both children. Rachel has come to accept that she's going to have to get more on board this soccer train, if it's what Emma wants to dedicate her time towards.

"So, have you given any thought to what we discussed yesterday?" Maria asks, wiping her hands on a dish cloth.

Rachel blinks, turning her attention back to the older woman. "We discussed a lot of things."

Maria chuckles. "About Quinn possibly taking over the team," she says.

Rachel sighs. "That is... complicated," she says carefully.

"How?" Maria questions. "She's already at every practice and game, and she's obviously knowledgeable enough to handle teaching kids about the game. Plus, she's already an actual teacher, and I know a lot of the other parents would feel more comfortable knowing Quinn would actually protect their kids if something similar were to happen."

Rachel manages a smile. "You've thought about this, haven't you?"

"The kids are already good," Maria says. "Quinn can make them better. It doesn't have to be forever. We can find someone new at the end of the season if she wants, but a lot of parents want Martin gone, and Quinn is perfect to take over."

"She has a clash on Thursday," Rachel points out, as if that's the only reason Quinn would refuse the opportunity. "It's why she arrives later."

"So, then, her assistant can lead the kids through their warmup and stretches," Maria counters. "Just tell me, Rachel, is she interested?"

Rachel is saved from a response when the doorbell rings, and both of them jump. Maria laughs for a moment, before she frowns.

"Who could that be?" she muses, and then leaves the kitchen to answer the door, returning a minute later with a blond boy about Val's age. Maria looks particularly nervous about it, and Rachel understands why when Maria introduces the boy as Nick Grayson.

Oh.

Rachel manages a smile, her heart rate rising. It's a relief when he doesn't register whom she is, and she can only hope the same holds true for Quinn.

Maria sends Nick outside, and he goes easily. Rachel wants to warn her wife, but it's too late, and she and Maria are left to watch through the window as Val greets his friend and then promptly introduces him to Quinn.

Rachel can't quite read the expression on Quinn's face, but it's much more complicated than the panic Rachel is feeling at Quinn basically meeting her nephew for the first time. Instead, her gaze is introspective as she looks between the two boys, but then she smiles, and the game resumes with Nick participating, and Rachel doesn't know how to feel about it.

Maria glances at her. "I'm sorry," she says. "I had no idea he was coming over. Val must have texted him when they started playing. They're always keen to learn, and it seems soccer is some kind of knowledge Quinn has in abundance."

Rachel can't stop her laugh. "You're really selling this coaching job, aren't you?"

"Am I starting to sound desperate?"

"Just a bit."

Maria chucks a pea at her. "Make yourself useful and dish out the vegetables," she says, and Rachel is quick to comply.

* * *

Quinn's heart beats steadily faster than average from the moment Nick arrives. He has Frannie's nose and the Fabray cheekbones, and her heart hurts at the thought she's missed years getting to know him.

But what stops her cold is what she's learned about Val. And now Nick, who comes from a family that denied Quinn's love, and will probably do the same for him. Quinn hopes they've changed. She hopes, with every fibre of her being, that their families will accept them.

She doesn't have much time to dwell, though, because Christina steals the ball from her and she now has skills to show off to someone whom she finds she actually wants to impress.

Which she does.

She can see it in both boys' eyes, and even Christina smugly says, "Told you."

Emma just laughs, obviously enjoying herself, and Quinn feels this odd warmth spread through her chest at the truth that this is her life.

All she needs is good food, apparently, and that arrives minutes later when Maria and Rachel call them to the table to eat - after washing up, of course.

Rachel checks in with her before they take their seats, an arm sliding around her waist as she hands her a glass of wine.

"I'm okay," Quinn assures her, which is only half true. She sips at her wine, and then kisses Rachel's temple, breathing her in.

Rachel just squeezes her waist, and then they take their seats, Matty propped up in a chair beside Quinn. She's aware, as she pushes Rachel's chair in for her that there are eyes watching her, but she's trying not to think about it too much.

If Val and Nick need to see her _be_ with Rachel, then she's not going to change anything about the way she acts.

Before they get tucked in, Joe casts a nervous look at his wife, who just sighs and holds out her hands for them to join to say Grace.

Quinn finds it all rather amusing, but she's all for it, her own hands linking with Rachel's and Matty's respectively.

Joe leads the prayer, and then invites them to eat. Quinn doesn't even know where to start, so she's relieved she has Matty to feed while Rachel helps Mia dish what she wants to eat.

Conversation goes on all around her, with and without her. She's harboured slight regret over the move, she must admit. She misses New York. She misses their lives and their friends and her job.

But she's here _now_ , and she holds zero regret _now_ , because this _is_ her life now, and she's certain she can be happy. Maybe. If whom she is as a person would allow it, at least.

Still, she wonders if this dinner will reach Frannie, or even their mother. Quinn has questions she wants to ask Nick; just to learn about him, but she holds her tongue, because revealing whom she is to him isn't something she thinks would be a good idea.

Not right now, at least.

It hurts, though, to know Frannie hasn't even told her son that she even exists. Or maybe he knows her as Lucy. But, then again, his sister is apparently also named Lucy, and that just confuses Quinn beyond anything.

Quinn won't allow herself to think it has anything to do with her, because she's named after their father's mother, and Frannie must have decided to carry on some kind of tradition.

Oh, to be a Fabray.

Well.

Quinn reasons, right now, it's not so bad.

* * *

"Riley and Maya."

Dr Fabray blinks at Chloe, clearly caught off guard by the words that come in lieu of a greeting. "Good morning to you, too, Chloe," she says with a smile.

Chloe flushes. "Oh, right, good morning, Coach," she says.

Dr Fabray brings her travel mug to her mouth to take a sip. "Who are Riley and Maya?"

"Just listing another two girls in a love triangle that should have ended up together," Chloe says brightly.

Dr Fabray takes a moment to click, and then laughs. "That's _Girl Meets World_ , right?"

Chloe nods.

"My kid likes that show," she says. "She's still sad it got cancelled."

"Don't even get me started on shows that have been unfairly cancelled," Chloe muses, already compiling a list in her head. She can be just as passionate about her television as her music.

"I've been alive longer," Dr Fabray points out. "I have seen many a reboot, Beale. We are not the same."

Chloe laughs, watching as Dr Fabray sets her coffee on the floor of the gym and stretches her arms in the air. She truly is a sight to behold, and Chloe stares for just a beat too long before she catches herself and forces her gaze away.

"How are you guys feeling about the competition?" Dr Fabray asks, nodding to the few girls who are slowly ambling in for their early morning practice.

Chloe shrugs. "It's not the first time at the rodeo for most of us," she explains. "We know what to expect at a competition, but this is the last year for a lot of us, and I think we're feeling the pressure. We want to win."

"Well, that's good to hear," Dr Fabray muses. "Other than that, how are you doing?"

Chloe visibly hesitates, glancing over her shoulder to make sure none of the other cheerleaders are close enough to hear her. "I am determined to be her friend," she says. "I have set this boundary for myself. Placed her in this labelled box, and it's - I think it's all I can handle at the moment."

Dr Fabray studies her closely for a moment, and then nods. "At least you're not going in the opposite direction," she says.

"At least," Chloe agrees, carrying some lingering guilt at freezing Beca out when she first joined the Bellas. It was an instinctive response to having to face her potential feelings, but Chloe has a better handle on things now.

She'll see how long it lasts.

Dr Fabray bends to retrieve her coffee. "I know this is something we haven't spoken about before, but I feel obligated to ask."

Chloe waits, oddly tense.

"How have your college applications been going?"

Chloe blinks. Oh. "Um, they're going okay," she finally says, unable to handle the fact that her teacher has asked her about college before her parents have. "Early admissions are already in, as far as I'm aware, but there a lot more scheduled for the new year."

Dr Fabray smiles, and Chloe thinks she actually looks proud. "That's great, Chloe," she says. "Do you have any schools you're hoping for? And what are you planning to study?"

Chloe won't admit it, but she preens a little. "I don't really have a specific school I'm hoping for," she admits. "I kind of just want to get into any one on the East Coast, and then pick from there. I'd probably aim to be close to Aubrey, and her father kind of has this whole Georgetown plan for her. Or even West Point, if he really gets his way."

Dr Fabray nods as if she understands. "My father had a Harvard plan for me," she says.

Chloe can see the lingering pain in her eyes, but she chooses not to comment. "And, is it silly that I want to be a vet?"

"Why would that be silly?"

Chloe shrugs. "I don't know," she says. "Usually, people look at me and maybe see something of an airhead, but I'm pretty smart, and I love animals, and I want to help them."

"Then, who cares what people think?" Dr Fabray says. "Seriously, Chloe, if there's something I've learned in my hundred years on this earth; it's that, when you want something, you're the only one who can go out and get it."

Chloe suddenly thinks she's talking about much more than just her potential future career.

* * *

As soon as Quinn arrives at the soccer field, she's accosted by Maria and two other mothers she recognises as belonging to Phillip and their goalkeeper, Oliver.

Even if Quinn wanted to sweep their request under the rug, one of these sneaky women mentioned the possibility of Quinn becoming the team's new coach to Emma, and it's literally all their daughter can talk about.

Sneaky.

Little.

Assholes.

Quinn hums to show she's listening, and then tries to sidestep the women to get to her wife, who just looks deeply amused by whatever she must be witnessing. Quinn knows Rachel is enjoying it all a little too much, and she vows to make her pay for it later.

Withholding orgasms is Quinn's specialty.

Quinn raises her hands to get the women to stop talking when they clearly aren't letting her leave. She hasn't made a decision yet, and she doesn't even know if she'll be able to say no, given how invested these parents generally are in the team. The thing is Quinn is also one of those parents, and, frankly, she would want herself to be the (interim) coach as well.

"You said I had time to think about it," Quinn points out.

"What's there to think about?" Oliver's mother asks. "There's really nothing to think about."

Quinn looks helplessly at Maria, silently asking for help.

"What's there to think about, Quinn?" Maria asks, and Quinn glares at her. "Just say yes."

Quinn shakes her head. "You know, just for that, I'm going to go and think about it some more." And then she skilfully dodges them with a quick turn, and almost jogs towards where Rachel is seated on the lowest bench. She collapses beside her and hides her face behind Rachel's shoulder.

"Tough day?" Rachel asks, obviously amused.

"This is all your fault," Quinn grumbles.

"Like hell it is," Rachel says. "You're the one who's been showing off her soccer skills for months; what did you expect?"

Quinn playfully bites at her shoulder, and then shifts to sit up straight. She shakes out her hands and says, "I'm doing this, aren't I?"

"You were always going to," Rachel returns, so unhelpful.

Quinn sighs heavily. "Fuck," she says under her breath.

Rachel bumps her shoulder with her own. "You can say no, you know?"

Quinn glances at her.

Rachel smiles a little sadly. "You _can_ , baby."

Quinn rests a hand on her knee, squeezing gently. There's no use even saying anything, because they always knew she was going to accept.

Quinn likes to think she has choices, but this is not one of them.

* * *

Later, after Quinn has stepped onto the field with Emma, Steph and Christina, Rachel is the one to tell Maria, "She'll do it."

They both know it's really only half the battle.

* * *

Rachel packs a cooler for Quinn on Thursday morning, kisses her sweetly, and then sends her on her way with a whispered good luck and a slap to her very fine ass.

Rachel probably won't see Quinn until later in the evening, and the both of them had to sit with Emma and explain that neither of them would be at her practice in the afternoon.

Emma said, "But, isn't Mom the new coach?" and Quinn was forced to tell her she would only be starting in the new year, seeing as the season's games have taken a break for the holidays.

Emma seemed mollified, and Rachel called to ask if Maria could keep an eye on her during practice. It's just so amazing to have a fellow mother in their corner, and the support they've garnered is starting to make them feel even more settled in their new lives.

Thursday is going to be Quinn's day, and Rachel knows she's going receive a similar level of support from her when her Bellas take on their own Sectionals on Saturday. She's nervous, of course, but Quinn doesn't seem it, at all.

She says, "I'm working with Aubrey Posen; what did you expect?" and it makes so much sense when she puts it that way.

Quinn promises her updates during the day, especially with so many cheerleaders out of school for the event. Quinn finds it amusing that the school has to call in a substitute for her, because that definitely wouldn't have happened at Columbia.

Well, a lot of things wouldn't have happened if Quinn was still lecturing at Columbia; if Rachel was still involved in Broadway. If they were still in New York.

If a lot of things.

* * *

Chloe won't admit it to anyone, but being in a room of cheerleaders is a very different experience when you're aware that you're attracted to the female form. Have skirts always been that short? Who knew calves were so fascinating?

Dr Fabray and Aubrey get them signed in when they arrive at the venue, while Chloe leads the Squad to their designated area. There are eight teams completing today, and only two making it through to Regionals. Chloe isn't actually worried, because they're very good, but she is still a little nervous.

She's probably just feeding off the rest of the Squad.

Her fingers twist her with her desire to reach for her phone, but Dr Fabray made sure to take all their phones before they even got onto the bus. She wants them focused, and she made sure to bring along some kid named Skye, who's been tasked with documenting the entire day on the Cheerios' official social media and the school's blog.

Dr Fabray has basically thought of everything.

Except how slimy other cheerleaders can be, apparently.

When Aubrey returns, she already looks tense, and Chloe barely has time to ask what's happened when Aubrey grips her wrist and says, "I almost forgot about the Timberwolves," in a voice that makes Chloe tense.

How could they forget about the Timberwolves? Honestly, they're the Cheerios' closest rivals, and those cheerleaders are some of the worst. Easily capable of getting under their skin, if they let them.

"What did Roula say to you?" Chloe asks, because she already knows the culprit.

Aubrey takes a few deep breaths. "We're going to win this, right?"

"Of course," Chloe assures her. "Have you seen our routine? It's totally bangin'."

Aubrey rolls her eyes. "Please never say that again."

Chloe beams are her. "Got your mind off it, though, didn't I?"

"You're a regular old magician, Beale," Aubrey deadpans. "But, yes, thank you. I just - she knows which buttons to press."

"She's just sour Jake liked you more," Chloe reminds her.

"He wasn't even that good of a kisser," Aubrey says.

Chloe laughs. "And, you know, not all of them are terrible," she says. "Did you see Sian and Lucy?"

Aubrey shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure Luce would have stopped whatever shenanigans Roula wants to get into."

Chloe grins at her. "Did you seriously just use the word 'shenanigans' unironically?"

Aubrey presses her lips together and seems to think about it. "I do believe I did, yes," she says, returning Chloe's smile. "I _am_ full of surprises."

"We all know that, Bree," Chloe muses, her gaze drifting around the room. She recognises a few of the other cheerleaders from being part of the circuit for so long, and she even waves at a few. There will be time to catch up once the competition is over.

Dr Fabray made sure to remind them of that much, at least.


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

Beca's phone is weirdly silent all day, and she's forced to acknowledge she and Chloe have been quite incessant with their texting the last few days - weeks? After this morning's thank you for Beca's good luck message, Chloe has been radio silent.

Beca's just glad she was actually warned beforehand, or she would have been overthinking every word she's sent in the last day or two.

Even Rachel seems a little out of sorts when Beca stops by during lunch just to talk. Rachel said she could do that, and Beca reasons she also needs the distraction.

"She promised me updates," Rachel tells Beca as they settle in Rachel's office. "And now they're coming from some freshman named Skye."

Beca just smiles. "How are they doing?"

"Apparently, they're currently performing, and it seems to be going well," Rachel reads off her phone, before sighing and setting it aside. "We'll find out the results only later."

"They'll make it."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Rachel quips, and then sobers slightly. "Are _you_ okay, though? You've seemed quieter than usual this week."

"You've barely even seen me this week," Beca points out.

"And, yet, I still managed to notice," Rachel says. "What's on your mind, Bec?"

A lot of things, apparently, which is why it's doubly amusing when she can't seem to think of anything.

"Are you nervous about Saturday?" Rachel asks after a moment.

"A little," Beca allows, relieved to be able to talk about something. "I've never really competed in anything before."

"It can be quite the rush," Rachel tells her.

"Is Quinn going to be there?"

"Of course," Rachel responds, as if it's the simplest thing. As if there's nowhere else she would be. "She'll head over with the kids after Emma's practice."

Beca hums. "Speaking of the whole soccer thing, what's this I hear about Quinn taking over the team?"

Rachel puffs out a breath. "Let me guess, Aaron's mother's not too happy."

"Bit of an understatement."

Rachel shrugs, as if it doesn't bother her, even if it does. "Well, she's got until the new year to get over it," she says. "After this week, there's no practice until then, anyway."

"As if Quinn would ever let Emma not practice," Beca says, almost rolling her eyes.

"It's probably the other way around," Rachel says. "Oh, that reminds me... Quinn is going to run some kind of soccer clinic over Break, if you think Aaron would be interested. Just to keep their skills fresh."

"I mean, I'm certain he would be interested, but the question remains if his parents would let him," Beca says. "Sheila was even talking about switching teams if Quinn actually does take over."

"Wow."

"She's got some serious problems," Beca says. "I - I don't even know what's going to happen over Christmas, because I definitely don't want a repeat of Thanksgiving." She pauses. "Though, I guess it worked out quite well for me in the end."

"I don't think I've ever seen someone eat that much mashed potato," Rachel teases.

"They were some good mashed potatoes," Beca defends. "Quinn is a culinary genius."

Rachel hums in agreement. "Well, whatever happens, just know that you're always welcome at ours, okay," she tells Beca. "Any time, our door's always open. Except when it's not, because crime is a thing. Then you just need to ring the doorbell, and we'll let you in."

Beca can barely look at her, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "Oh, um, thank you," she says quietly, not quite trusting her voice. Rachel allows her to have a moment, and she uses it to compose herself and reveal, "It's my first holiday season without my mom." She breathes deeply. "I don't think that has even registered with my dad or Sheila."

Rachel hums. "Do you think they'd let you go and visit your grandmother?" she asks.

Beca freezes, because that isn't even something she's let herself consider. "That - I didn't even think of that."

"It's probably worth asking," Rachel says. "It might be good for you to see her. How often do you two talk?"

Beca drops her gaze. "Not very often," she admits. "She's not all that great with technology."

"Gosh, yes," Rachel immediately agrees. "My Dad is hopeless, and he doesn't even have the excuse of a degenerative disease." Her mouth slams shut as soon as the words are out, and her gaze darkens as if she barely believes she would say such a thing.

Beca wants to comfort her in some way, because, despite her own age, she already knows how it feels to watch a parent fade away right before her eyes.

Rachel clears her throat, her eyes clearing a moment later. "I've actually been meaning to ask you if you're free on Monday," she asks. "Early evening, roundabout."

Beca blinks at her. "This coming Monday?"

Rachel nods. "We're having a small dinner after Mia's karate, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us."

Beca nods slowly. "I'm not busy," she says. "Is - is something happening?"

Rachel blushes, looking away. "Oh, well, yes, it's kind of my birthday."

Beca's face splits into a grin. "It's your birthday," she echoes. "Are we not excited about it?"

Rachel shrugs. "It's definitely not as exciting as celebrating the kids' birthdays, that's for sure," she says. "Speaking of, when is yours? I need to put it in my calendar, so I'm prepared."

Beca freezes. "Oh."

Rachel's eyes narrow. "Are you about to tell me it's already passed?" she asks.

Beca can't bring herself to respond.

"Beca," Rachel says, leaning forward. "When is your birthday?"

She sighs heavily. "September twenty-second," she finally says, and Rachel stares at her as if she's just kicked her puppy.

"But - but, we already knew you," she points out.

Beca almost wants to apologise, but that seems... weird. Still, she says, "I'm sorry."

Rachel shakes her head as she reaches for a pen and makes a note of the date. "It's okay," she says. "There's always next year."

It's the way she says it, mainly, how easily it rolls off her tongue, as if it's a sure thing, that makes Beca realise just what she has here.

And, dear God, Beca can barely contain the amount of emotion that bursts in her chest. "Yeah?" she questions, so softly that it amazes her that Rachel even hears her.

Rachel nods, firm and confident. "Of course, Bec."

* * *

They make it through to Regionals.

Of course they do.

Chloe watches as a weight seems to be lifted from Aubrey's shoulders, and she can't help her laugh when Dr Fabray lifts little Skye right off her feet in celebration. Their smiles are matching, and she can't quite figure out how Dr Fabray even knows the Freshman.

Anyway.

That's a mystery for another day.

Right now, she spots Lucy across the room, talking to Sian and another cheerleader Chloe doesn't recognise. She and Lucy are friends… by default, when they realised they were actually dating the same boy when they were Freshmen. Sure enough, they dealt with Connor, and somehow struck up a friendship.

They have - had - things in common. Both with older brothers, cheerleaders, and friends with tyrants who happen to hate each other.

Chloe hates that they see so little of each other, but they're both so busy during the semester, and they tend to save they're catching-up for these moments. Which is why Chloe makes her way over as soon as Sian and the other girl walk away, leaving Lucy momentarily alone, long enough for Chloe to steal her attention.

Lucy practically beams when she spots Chloe, and Chloe can't help thinking there is something weirdly familiar about the cut of her jaw.

Strange.

"Come to gloat?" Lucy teases when Chloe approaches, already holding out her arms for a hug.

"Says you," Chloe accuses as she wraps her arms around the blonde girl, squeezing tight. "We're both through."

"My Coach wanted us to crush you," Lucy points out.

"Mine doesn't even give a shit about you guys," Chloe returns, which is partly true. Dr Fabray didn't allude to any of the other Squads; just told them to be wary of mind games and distractions.

Lucy hums softly, and peers over Chloe's shoulder. "How - how is she as a coach?" she asks, and Chloe hears something very particular in her voice.

It makes her frown. "Luce, you thinking of jumping ship?"

"What? No," Lucy hurries to say. "I'm just curious. She's new, isn't she?"

Chloe feels a little uneasy, but she still says, "She is, yeah, though she's a Cheerio alum."

Lucy nods, as if it's something she already knows. "And, what is she like?"

Chloe frowns. "Lucy," she says. "What's going on? Why are you so interested in Dr Fabray?"

"She's a doctor?"

"What?"

Lucy sighs, her gaze drifting back to Chloe's confused face. "It's nothing bad," she says. "I just - look, you can't actually tell anyone, okay, but she's kind of - well, she's actually my aunt."

Chloe's eyes widen. "What?"

Lucy steps closer to Chloe, dropping the volume of her voice. "I've never actually met her before," she confesses. "She was already gone by the time I was born, as far as I know, and I don't think she even knows - or _knew_ \- I existed until this year. So, you know, I'm curious about her, and I - I don't even know if introducing myself is something she would even want."

Chloe doesn't know how to respond to her, but she can't help her own desire to protect her coach. "Why would you even want to talk to her?" she asks, and her voice comes out harsher than she intends, just based on the surprise on Lucy's face. "I assume you haven't met for a reason, right?"

Lucy winces. "That was a long time ago," she says quietly. "They - things are - "

Chloe shakes her head. "Leave her alone," she says, stern. "If you're just doing it out of some kind of morbid curiosity, just leave her alone."

"It's not that, Chloe," Lucy rushes to say, her hand reaching for Chloe's arm when she goes to turn away. "It's obvious you _know_ , so I won't even try to deny it, but I - I'm not like the rest of my family. Or how they used to be. I don't even know. My gran and mom have been so up in arms about all of this, and Nick actually _met_ her, and yeah, I'm curious, but I also just - is it so strange that I'd just want to meet my aunt?"

Chloe studies her face very closely, searching for something. "You're not like them?"

"Not even a little bit," she answers. "You've met Sian, right? I don't think there's an inch of her closet that isn't flannel. She's one of my best friends, and I love her and her crazy."

Chloe meets her gaze, waiting.

Lucy's own gaze is soft and pleading, as if she needs Chloe to understand.

Chloe clears her throat. "Would you like me to introduce you to her?" she offers quietly.

Lucy's eyes widen. "Would you really?"

Chloe nods. "I would," she says. "I think she'd actually really like that."

"Really?"

Chloe grabs for her hand and then tugs, leading the way through the amassed cheerleaders towards where Dr Fabray is talking to another blonde cheerleading coach. Where did all these blonde people come from?

Dr Fabray notices her a moment later, her smile growing right until the moment it freezes on her face when her eyes slide to the girl beside her. As if she recognises her.

Unless she thinks this is the girl Chloe has been crushing on. Just imagine.

Dr Fabray politely excuses herself from her current conversation and makes her way over to where Chloe and Lucy are standing, both of them visibly nervous about the upcoming conversation.

Dr Fabray stops right in front of them, eyes darting between the two of them, a slight crease in her brow.

"Coach," Chloe says; "this is Lucy. She's a friend from the Timberwolves Squad."

Dr Fabray still looks a little pale, but she looks at Lucy, eyes searching. "Hello, Lucy," she says, grinning a little. "Congratulations on making it through."

"You, too," Lucy says, her voice catching slightly.

Chloe smiles softly. "Lucy had some questions about just what type of coach you are," she explains. "I figured it'd be easier if she just asked the source."

Dr Fabray looks at Chloe. "Is that so?"

"Oh, totally," she says. "I'm all about cutting out the middle man, you know? All about efficiency. You know how it is. What was that? Did you hear that? Is that Aubrey calling me? Oh, well, look at that, I should go see what she wants."

She doesn't wait a second more, turning on her heel and practically sprinting away before either of them can call her back.

Hah.

* * *

Quinn can only stare after Chloe's rapidly retreating back until she disappears among twirling skirts and pom-poms. Her heart does a little stutter in her chest as she turns her attention to the teenager in front of her.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Quinn says.

Lucy - her niece, Lucy, who is standing right in front of her - tilts her head to the side. "Perhaps," she says; "but I'm willing to take the chance."

Quinn smiles at her, because this is Lucy, her niece, and she's all grown up in all the best ways. "You're a cheerleader," she says.

"I feel as if I should point out that I'm actually the _Head_ Cheerleader," Lucy says, shrugging slightly. "It's an important distinction."

"Oh, I'm aware," Quinn muses. "Like your mother."

Lucy nods. "And you."

"Did your mother tell you that?"

"My grandmother, actually," Lucy answers, looking thoughtful. "She's been rather forthcoming with all the questions I seem to have lately."

Quinn hums. "I imagine you have a lot of them."

"I'm curious, it seems."

Quinn studies her for a moment, unsure what to feel in this moment. She almost wants to call Rachel and ask for advice, because this feels dangerous in a way. Like she's going about it all wrong by interacting with the children, rather than the people she should.

Lucy sighs. "Chloe kind of told me to leave you alone, if it was just about curiosity."

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up. "She did?"

"Kind of got protective over you, to be honest," Lucy says. "Practically made me promise I was nothing like my family... was, before she would introduce me."

Quinn ignores select parts of that confession, unwilling to dwell. "She's sweet," is what she ends up saying.

"And a little scary," Lucy adds with a small shudder. "I thought Aubrey was the intense one."

Quinn shrugs, unwilling to comment further on any possible reasons for Chloe going to task for her.

Lucy shifts her feet. "You met Nick," she says quietly, looking a little pale. "With Val."

Quinn blinks. "Oh."

"He had a bit of a meltdown when he got home talking about you without knowing who you are, and then got told and then panicked, and - " she stops. "Mom had to explain it to him, and he's been - well, you obviously _know_ , so it seems less likely he's going to be coming out to them any time soon now."

Quinn audibly swallows. "You know?"

"He's my brother."

"Sibling relationships don't really mean anything to me," Quinn says flatly, and Lucy flinches. "As far as I'm aware, I've spent the past twenty-four years as an only child." She pauses. "An orphan, actually."

Lucy meets her gaze, a soft grey looking into deep hazel. "They were shit to you, weren't they?"

Quinn drops her gaze. "It wasn't anything I wasn't already used to," she answers vaguely. "I didn't expect anything else."

Lucy looks stricken, and Quinn knows this isn't a conversation she should be having with this teenager. This _child_ , who has done nothing to wrong her in any way.

Quinn clears her throat. "So, you're a senior?"

Lucy blinks at the sudden question. "Um, yes," she answers. "Graduation is just around the corner."

"Any prospects?"

"Drew, my older brother, is actually at Northwestern," she says, looking a little proud. "We made this pact when we were little that we would always go to the same college."

Quinn hears something significant in her voice, though, which is why she asks, "but you're not so keen on Illinois, are you?"

Lucy seems surprised she even noticed. "Not in the slightest," she says. "I'm actually looking at Princeton."

Quinn grins. "It's a beautiful campus," she comments.

Lucy's eyes widen. "You've been there?"

Quinn nods. "I guest lectured there a few times," she explains. "Do you have a major in mind?"

Lucy seems to blush. "I actually want to be a journalist," she confesses. "It doesn't sound all that exciting, I know, but I've always been a bit of a seeker of truth."

"Ah," Quinn says, as it finally seems to click. "The curiosity."

Lucy shrugs. "Both a blessing and a curse," she says. "Figure I'd put it to good use, so I can get into trouble for an actual reason. Maybe even make some money while I'm at it."

Quinn nods. "I think being willing to go for your dreams is brave," she says. "And, if you need any help with your applications, I'd be happy to offer any assistance."

Lucy's eyes widen. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I'd have to read some of your work first, but yes," Quinn says. "If the name Lucy blessed us with anything, let it be writing talent, right?"

Lucy freezes. "I thought your name was Quinn?"

Quinn can't quite explain the ache that burns in her chest at the question. It isn't surprise, not really, but she would think Frannie would have at least explained that Lucy's name, even if not meant for her, is at least _shared_ with her.

Quinn licks her lips. "It's my middle name, actually," she explains. "I stopped going by Lucy when I started high school."

"Why?"

Quinn shakes her head, letting out an amused laugh. "Just… didn't suit me anymore, I guess," she says as vaguely as she can, because she can't realistically explain to an actual Lucy the way the bullies at her Elementary school turned her name into something derogatory to tease her with. She can't explain how she wanted to escape the name and its connotations.

Still, Lucy seems to understand. "So, you're Lucy Quinn," she says out loud, as if she's just trying out the name on her tongue, but then she freezes. "You're Lucy Quinn," she repeats, and Quinn's own eyes widen. "Oh, my God, you're totally Lucy Quinn."

"No," Quinn rushes to say; "of course not. That's absurd."

Lucy looks delighted. "You totally are," she says. "Wow. That's amazing."

Quinn shakes her head. "I'm not," she says. "That's - nope."

"You're an awful liar."

"I really need you to forget the last thirty seconds of this conversation."

"Impossible."

"Well, then, you definitely can't tell anyone what you think you've figured out," Quinn points out.

"I wasn't going to," Lucy assures her. "I just think it's so stupid cool that I'm actually talking to Lucy Quinn right now. I'm a huge fan, you know? Nick got me to read the Mae Wilson Series, but I'm more a fan of 'Edge of Glory.'"

Quinn blinks. "Why?" she asks, unable to resist.

"Because Laura Fields is also a seeker of truth," Lucy explains. "She does everything in her power to get to the truth of the mystery. And she has a Dalmatian. Who wouldn't think it's your best one? The writing is amazing, and the story is kind of captivating, just reading about how she navigates coming of age and her new friendships, all while trying to solve a murder."

Despite herself, Quinn actually blushes at the praise. She receives a lot of it online, but it's uncommon in person, because she's rarely recognised for the fictional author she actually is. Only her inner circle even knows, and most of them like to tease her for her espionage rather than discuss her work.

(Well, not Rachel, because she gets weirdly invested in Quinn's writing).

"I also encountered the book during a very stressful time in my life," Lucy says, suddenly quiet. "I actually can't believe it's you."

Quinn is saved from stumbling through some kind of response by someone calling Lucy's name and stealing her attention. This entire meeting feels like an out-of-body experience, and Quinn knows she's going to have to take the time to unpack it properly later.

Lucy eventually looks back at her and smiles apologetically. "I have to get going," she says. "The bus actually might leave without me."

"Of course," Quinn says. "Wouldn't want that." She clears her throat, trying not to be too awkward. "If you're still interested in some help with your applications, just have Chloe get a hold of me," she offers.

Lucy smiles in something like relief. "Okay, yeah, that's really cool, thank you."

"Of course," Quinn says with a smile. "It was really nice to meet you."

It's only once Lucy is gone that Quinn wonders if she's just made things easier or more difficult for herself.

* * *

Chloe has just had her phone returned to her, comfortably settling into her seat for the short bus ride back to school, when she sees a very particular text from Lucy.

Of course.

She sends along Dr Fabray's contact with little hesitance, and then shifts to view Beca's Snaps.

* * *

"So, they won?" Beca muses during a short break in rehearsals for the musical, making sure Rachel actually _takes_ a break.

Rachel smiles at her, reaching for her phone to show Beca the pictures she's received. "They won, and they're already on their way back," she explains, handing Beca her phone. "There are a few of Chloe on there."

Beca blushes, because, okay, that's the first time an actual _name_ has been given to Beca's very obvious crush. She doesn't say anything as she looks at the pictures, feeling her mouth curve into a smile. The pictures are mainly of the Squad in various stages of celebrations, excited grins on their faces.

Beca's traitorous heart stutters when she first spies Chloe, who has Aubrey wrapped in a hug, both of them looking relieved and proud, and Beca appreciates that someone managed to capture the moment.

She's still scrolling when Rachel's phone buzzes in her hand, a message from Quinn popping up at the top of the screen, and Beca almost drops it at the sight of the words.

 _Your wife is a winner, and she's cashing in on all the hot, nasty sex she was promised_.

Beca's eyes widen as she fumbles with the phone, Rachel grabbing it before it really does take a tumble. Her own eyes bug out of her head at the message, and then she flushes darkly.

For a long moment, neither of them says or does anything, and then they both burst out laughing uncontrollably. Beca even doubles over, easily ignoring the curious looks that get sent their way.

"Oh, my God," Rachel eventually says, trying to catch her breath. "Quinn will die of mortification if she knew you saw that."

"Kind of like what's happening to you right now, huh?"

Rachel gently shoves her, but they're both still laughing, and it is perfect.

* * *

Rachel doesn't tell Quinn about Beca seeing the text, mainly because her wife arrives home a confused, horny mess, and it takes two orgasms before Quinn is revealing that she met her niece at the competition.

Rachel crawls back up her gorgeous body, both of them still a bit breathless, and rests her head over Quinn's heart, feeling its rhythm beneath her own skin. "And, how are you feeling about it?"

Quinn doesn't respond, which is an answer in itself. Her fingers just card through Rachel's hair, soft and soothing, holding her close. "It's your turn on Saturday," Quinn says instead.

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

"We are," Rachel confirms, even though she is a little worried. She knows she's inexperienced when it comes to directing high school show choir, so this will be the first real hurdle she has to overcome. She might be feeling the pressure.

"You're going to be amazing," Quinn tells her, anyway, and, despite Quinn not being some kind of future-teller, the words are comforting in their confidence.

* * *

As expected, Aubrey goes into something of a panic on Saturday morning. Chloe does her best to keep her calm, but it's difficult to do when Aubrey's mood seems to be rubbing off on the rest of the group. They're already at a disadvantage, most of them without competition experience and most relatively new to any kind of competition at all.

So, Chloe is actually kind of relieved when Beca very purposefully says, "Aubrey, shut up," in a bit of a drawl that actually has Aubrey's mouth snapping shut. It's honestly a super power at this point, and Chloe shoots Beca a grateful look.

Aubrey looks between them, eyes narrowed. "Are you just going to let her talk to me like that?" she asks, and she sounds more confused than anything.

Thankfully, Dr Berry starts to gather them into a little huddle. There are still a few hours to go until they actually take the stage, but she wants to run through everything one last time, which Chloe hopes will curb Aubrey's growing anxiety. Obviously, Chloe doesn't blame her for being so tense. She, along with a few others, has the displeasure of memories of the last time they performed competitively.

It did not go well.

At all.

Chloe knows this time is going to be different. They have Dr Berry, and they have Beca. It's basically a winning combination. It doesn't matter what the Treblemakers say.

"So, we'll just do a quick run-through," Dr Berry says, smiling reassuringly. "I'm sure we all have it down. Goodness knows we've practiced enough - but I think it'll help settle our collective nerves."

Chloe nods in agreement, and then claps her hands to get them moving. They have the auditorium to themselves for at least another hour until the other groups start arriving for their own last rehearsals.

Chloe had to excuse herself and the other cheerleaders in the Bellas from Cheerio practice this morning, and Dr Fabray actually asked for it in writing. At first, Chloe thought she was joking, but she wasn't.

Huh.

Still, she and Aubrey drafted the letter, had Dr Berry sign it with her own amused smile, and then handed it to their coach, who just read through it once, set it aside and granted them permission to skip with a firm, "I expect another win, ladies," and now here they are.

The entire event is supposed to start at ten o'clock, and time seems to be moving both fast and slow simultaneously. She can't decide if she would have it either way, so she'll just take what she can. She'll focus on right now.

The run-through goes smoothly, and Chloe can sense that it's injected a bit of confidence into them all. Even Aubrey looks a little more relaxed, easily chatting to Stacie and Emily as they get off the stage and head back to the Choir Room to regroup.

Chloe's heart stutters when Beca steps up beside her, almost matching her stride. "You good?" Beca asks, glancing over at her with a small smile. "You're looking thoughtful."

Chloe feels a smile spread across her face. "Just a little nervous," she says, unsure if it's actually a lie. "I don't even know why."

"You want to win," Beca points out. "I want to win, too, and I'm not sure I like the feeling all that much."

"Oh?"

"Jesse likes to rile me up about it," Beca comments, and Chloe's smile freezes.

"Jesse?"

Beca chuckles. "Oh, right, he's in the musical," she explains. "Also a Treble, but I try to ignore that as much as possible. Makes him more annoying, otherwise, and he really doesn't need the help."

Chloe isn't sure what to make of just how fond of the boy Beca sounds, even though she's complaining about him. She clears her throat. "Fraternising with the enemy, I see," she attempts to tease, and delights in the way Beca's face scrunches up in disgust.

"Dude, no," she says, shuddering. "Gross."

Chloe laughs, more out of relief than anything. "Not your type, huh?"

" _Totally_ not my type," Beca says, eyes a little wide, as if she's revealed more than she expected. "Way too peppy," she adds a beat later.

Chloe blinks. "Peppy?"

Beca meets her gaze for a moment. "Happy," she elaborates.

Chloe slows her pace. "You don't like happy people?" she asks, her brow furrowed.

Beca shakes her head and says, "I don't trust them not to hurt me," before she ducks into the Choir Room and leaves Chloe even more confused.

What does that even mean?

* * *

Beca moves straight towards Rachel when she enters the Choir Room, her heart beating a little too fast. She's not sure what her facial expression reveals - hopefully nothing - but Rachel still abandons her conversation with CR and Amy to give her attention to Beca.

They step aside in unison, and Beca feels a comforting hand on her forearm, somehow just grounding her.

"Hey," Rachel says. "Bec, what's going on?"

Beca blinks a few times, trying to clear her head and slow her breathing. "I think I almost just came out to Chloe," she whispers, and Rachel's eyes widen. "And it just proved to me that I'm definitely not ready."

Rachel's fingers tighten around her arm. "Okay," she says, her voice soothing. "Okay, Bec. It's okay."

They're just words, but the tone of her voice is what does the trick, and Beca returns from her slight panic, flushing a little in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she says, ducking her head. "I don't even know what happened."

"What did I say about apologising?" Rachel says, sounding a little exasperated through her obvious smile. She studies Beca closely. "Something else is bothering you, though."

Beca frowns, because how on earth could Rachel possibly be able to tell that? "Uh."

Rachel catches her gaze and asks, "Is it something that requires more time to talk about?"

Beca nods, not quite trusting her own voice.

"Well, just know I'm available whenever you're ready," Rachel assures her. "Or Quinn, if that makes you more comfortable."

Beca drops her gaze to her own feet, breathing steadily. She hates how affected she is. She's supposed to be stronger than this. She's Beca Mitchell, for goodness' sake. Stoic is practically her default setting. She doesn't get ruffled. She doesn't get _anything_.

Rachel waits a beat, and then hands Beca her phone. "Here," she says; "look at what I got home to last night after we finished rehearsals."

Beca hesitates. "You do remember I saw something I wasn't supposed to, the last time you showed me your phone, right?"

Rachel laughs softly, but still hands over the phone. "I think you'll appreciate this."

Beca looks down at the screen, and then immediately grins at the picture she sees. "What on earth?"

"They were trying to bake my birthday cake," Rachel explains, rolling her eyes; "and ended up destroying our kitchen in the process."

Beca keeps her eyes focused on the pictures as she scrolls, making note of the smiles on all their faces. Quinn is in a 'Kiss the Chef' apron that's streaked in chocolate, and Emma has flour in her hair. Mia's mouth is surrounded by frosting, and Matty is rolling in a mess of rainbow sprinkles.

Disaster is an understatement.

"That's amazing," Beca says, handing the phone back. "Was anything they made edible?"

Rachel shakes her head. "You assume anything even made it into the oven."

"That bad, huh?"

"I was still trying to get frosting out of Matty's hair this morning," she complains. "It is deceptively difficult."

Beca wouldn't pretend to know what that's like, but she does feel a lot lighter after seeing the pictures. No wonder Rachel thought it would help. "Thank you," Beca says quietly. "I - yeah."

Rachel's smile is easy, gentle, and Beca's relieved she doesn't actually say anything. It's kind of the beauty of Rachel Berry-Fabray, Beca's found.

This woman, somehow, just _knows_ her, and it means everything.

* * *

Quinn won't admit to rushing from Emma's practice with all three children in tow. She knows Rachel would kill her if she knew Quinn broke the speed limit with all their precious cargo, but she wants to make it in time to watch the Bellas perform.

"Not a word to your mother," Quinn warns Emma, who's grinning widely when they pull into the parking lot of William McKinley High School.

"Only if you agree to coach my team," Emma counters.

Quinn rolls her eyes, and then turns off the car. "Come on," she says; "we don't have time to debate, Sweets. Help me get your sister out of the car."

They make it.

Just in time.

Quinn gets them situated in the back of the auditorium, just as the Bellas are taking the stage. Mia immediately tugs on her arm, grinning with all her teeth. "That's Beca," she says, bouncing in her seat.

"It is, Princess," Quinn assures her, kissing the top of her head. They both turn when the music starts, and Quinn watches, transfixed, as some of her cheerleaders, Beca, and a handful of other students she doesn't recognise make magic.

The actual songs are a masterclass, and Quinn can hear Beca's evident sound all over it. _And_ she can also sing. It's the first time Quinn has heard her, and Chloe, and Aubrey, and, really, some people end up with all the talent. It's just not fair.

Matty squirms in her lap, and she helps him to his feet, wincing at the thought of his shoes on her white jeans. She really should have learned from the last time she dared to wear them. Marinara sauce is a bitch to get out.

And grass stains, apparently.

Matty's little feet press into her thighs, and she holds him steady, peering around his head as the songs shift through the set. Quinn knows Rachel asked Skye to record the entire thing for them, so Quinn isn't worried this performance won't go down in history as the first of many with Rachel at the helm.

Quinn can't help how proud she feels. She knew Rachel was nervous, and her little tiff with Jesse definitely didn't help with anything. That rivalry has definitely seen better days.

And worse. There are unborn baby chickens that paid the price. Eggs are also difficult to get out of white clothing, Quinn has learned. Those pesky yolks.

When the performance ends, Quinn gets to her feet with Matty in her arms, not bothered to attempt to clap when Mia and Emma are making more than enough noise for the lot of them. It's the first performance they've watched since arriving, but she's suddenly certain nobody coming after will be able to top them.

And, she's correct. Three other groups perform following the Bellas - The Footnotes, Jane Addams Academy, and The Hipsters - and they pale in comparison.

Emma even says so, punctuating her opinion with an actual yawn. "Mama's going to win, isn't she?"

Quinn has to explain that nobody actually _wins_ , per se, but two of the eight competitors move through to Regionals. It's similar to her own cheerleading competition's system; things a little different to how they were done back when she and Rachel were in high school. Basically offering more teams an opportunity for competition.

In the end, it's unsurprising that the Bellas are one of those teams. The other is the Treblemakers, which Quinn reasons is maybe the best case scenario when it comes to dealing with a self-serving Jesse St James.

From her seat, Quinn just watches Rachel and Beca on stage, feeling her chest expand with all the emotion she feels in this moment.

Did she mention she was proud?

* * *

Rachel is buzzing once it's all over. Her fingers are practically tingling from the emotion flowing through her body. She's so happy and proud and relieved and all those other wonderful things that arrive with the joy of victory.

Because they're hosting, the Bellas and Treblemakers stay after the end to clean up as best they can, and it's almost nice to interact with the boys. Most are kind, competitive in their own ways, but polite.

To her, at least.

Jesse is a little sour, but Rachel isn't going to let that affect her mood. She's floating a little on Cloud Nine when the Bellas finally return to the Choir Room, all of them just verging on overly-excited.

She hasn't said much beyond a rushed 'Congratulations,' but she thinks there will be more for that during their next rehearsal. Right now, she's going to let them get changed out of their performance outfits and continue to discuss their plans to celebrate together, and apart.

Rachel is busy searching for her phone in her bag, keen to find out where Quinn is, when she hears a collective 'aww' resound in the room. She turns at the noise, only to discover Matty stumbling into the room, a rose in his chubby hand. For a moment, she thinks he's going to head towards her, but he makes his way towards Beca instead, and Rachel was never ready for the burst of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her.

Beca grins from ear to ear as she bends to scoop him up, saying, "Hey, Buddy, is that for me?"

Matty tries to place the rose behind Beca's ear, but he can't seem to manage until Chloe steps close to them and helps. Rachel can only watch in something like fascination as Chloe tucks some hair behind Beca's ear, making both girls blush, and then situate the rose in position.

Huh.

Rachel blinks.

Well.

That's an interesting development.

A few of the girls crowd around Beca, who is all smiles for Matty, bouncing him a little on her hip. Rachel can't tell how she's explaining the child in her arms, but she finds she doesn't mind.

That is until Matty cries out an excited _Mama_ in her direction, and at least a dozen heads swivel in her direction. Rachel just smiles, waving a hand at Matty, who squirms to be let down.

Beca immediately obliges, and Matty sprints straight to Rachel, plowing right into her legs and earning himself a chorus of laughter. Rachel bends to retrieve him, planting a kiss on his cheek and marvelling in his happy shriek.

"We go?" Matty asks her, hands on her cheeks. "Food."

Rachel laughs softly and says, "One minute, Bud," before setting him on the floor again. He looks around for the first time, taking in all the people around him; practically staring at him with wide eyes.

"Mama," Matty says, tugging on her pants as he grows a little shy. "We go."

Rachel smiles to herself, and then catches Beca's gaze, silently asking a question that Beca thankfully seems to understand.

"Hey, Matty," Beca calls, getting his attention, and Rachel uses the time to finish gathering her things, so she can go and celebrate with her family.

By this point, she's used to the pang in her chest when she's forced to remember Beca isn't officially a part of it.

* * *

Chloe watches, fascinated, as Beca interacts with the tiny human being nestled in her arms. It's honestly the last thing she expected to see today, and she can barely handle whatever it's making her feel.

She wants to ask, of course, because how is Beca so familiar with Dr Berry's son? Also, is he the child who was sprawled out across Beca in the picture she sent? If he is, that means Beca spent Thanksgiving with their Director instead of her own family, which is -

Chloe doesn't know _what_ to ask at this point, or even if she should. Maybe she doesn't want to know, or maybe she's acknowledged that Beca would tell her if it were necessary.

But, then again, this Beca in front of her is someone foreign. Goodness, Chloe wishes Beca would look at her the way she's looking at this little boy right now.

Matty, is his name.

She frowns a little at the familiarity of it, absently wondering why there's a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that she should recognise his name.

Beca nuzzles his cheek at some point, both of them actually giggling, and it's as if every coherent thought has suddenly failed Chloe.

God.

How Chloe _wants_.

* * *

After Quinn makes sure Matty has made it safely into the Choir Room and heard the chorus of awws, she holds onto Mia's hand and leads her and Emma out of the school and into the parking lot.

Emma is practically bouncing, visibly excited about the day as a whole. Technically, it's _her_ Saturday, and all she asked for was pizza, _The Lion King_ and for Quinn to coach her soccer team.

Simple.

The sun is shining when they get outside, but the air is still chilly enough that she can see her own breath. She's not sure it'll snow in time for Christmas, but they're definitely headed in the direction of freezing temperatures.

It's not going to be their first Christmas in Lima since she and Rachel got married. They've been back a handful of times, even carting a precocious Emma and toddling Mia one year, and spending the holidays with Rachel's fathers.

Then Matty was on the way, and LeRoy faced a terrifying diagnosis, and things have changed. They _live_ here now, with their growing family; the entire lot of them still trying to adjust to the changes.

"Mom, can we go and swing?" Emma suddenly asks, eyes already on the swing set that exists as part of a small playground just off the parking lot that Quinn has never understood. They're at a high school, for goodness' sake. What is it even doing here?

Still, Quinn allows it, making sure they're both suitably bundled up, and then watching them scurry off. She follows at a more sedate pace, already expecting to be asked to push them in a minute or two.

She knows her children far too well, it seems.

"Are they yours?" a voice asks, interrupting her musings, and she turns her head to see Jesse St James with his gaze on the swings. "They're cute."

Quinn smiles to herself, irrationally proud. "They are," she confirms.

Jesse hums, shifting in place. "They look like you," he says, and Quinn says nothing in response. "Not much of your husband in them."

Quinn shouldn't find it as funny as she does, but it's honestly hilarious that he still doesn't know she and Rachel are married. How - just _how_ is that possible?

"Puck, huh?"

Quinn coughs, practically sputters. "What?" she scoffs. "I am not married to Puck. What on Earth makes you think that?"

Jesse shrugs. "Isn't it poetic, in some way?" he points out. "He was there at the start of it all, so it makes some kind of sense you'd end up together." He pauses. "And, plus, hasn't nearly everyone ended up with his or her high school sweethearts?"

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, because apparently he knows about everyone else, but not them. "What makes you think I ended up with someone from high school, anyway?" she asks, oddly curious.

Jesse glances at her. "Why else would you be back here?" he asks, and at least that much makes sense. She would never have returned willingly, and she wouldn't have had to at all, if she were with someone not from Lima.

"It's not Puck," she tells him. "It was never going to be Puck."

"Oh?"

Quinn turns her body slightly, one eye on her girls and the other eyeing Jesse critically. "Tell me, St James, why _are_ you back here?" she asks. "Last I heard, you were making something of a name of yourself in the industry, and then you basically just fell off the face of the Earth."

Jesse looks back at the swings, smiling softly. "Would you believe me if I were to tell you I actually have a daughter of my own?"

Quinn's eyebrows rise. She definitely didn't expect that, but even she can't deny, now that she's looking, that there is something weirdly softer about Jesse. Just in the way he carries himself.

Jesse clears his throat. "Her mother and I aren't together," he explains, brow creased. "I messed up quite badly, and she wants next to nothing to do with me. I try to do my best, you know, but I see Steph only on Wednesdays and Sundays, and I've always wanted to be more involved but Tessa doesn't trust me not to let Steph down the same way I did her, and it's - yeah."

Quinn stares at him, her mouth hanging open.

"What?"

" _Steph_ is your daughter?" she almost shouts. "Steph Preston? Is your daughter?"

Jesse blinks. "Do you know her?" he asks, and there's something strained in his own voice. "Wait. Your daughter knows her, doesn't she?"

Quinn's heart thuds in her chest, unsure what to do with this new information. "They play on the same soccer team," she finally says, and something seems to click for Jesse.

"That's Emma," he finally says, looking at the little playground again. "You're Emma's Mom." He pauses. "But, Steph said Emma has two - " he stops quite suddenly, his eyes widening in some kind of morbid realisation.

Quinn doesn't think they can get any wider, but they reach saucer size when Rachel emerges from the main school building with Matty in tow.

"Mothers," Jesse finishes.

Quinn looks towards Rachel, who is hesitantly approaching them. Quinn figures her last conversation with Jesse wasn't pleasant, so she's probably wondering what the two of them could possibly be talking about.

Rachel isn't going to believe it.

Quinn barely believes it.

She can see it, though. Steph has Jesse's chin and perhaps a bit of his temperament. They're also similarly built, athletic in their own way.

Quinn's mind is a little blown, she's not going to lie.

And, frankly, Rachel doesn't fare any better when Jesse tells her next, and it is mind-boggling. Quinn was literally just with Steph, and Jesse hasn't seen her since Wednesday. Her heart aches for him, but she won't pretend to understand what ever are Tessa's motivations for maintaining some kind of distance.

"Huh," Rachel says, visibly caught off guard. She hands Matty to Quinn and then seems to give Jesse her full attention, even pulling him aside to talk more privately as Quinn goes to retrieve Emma and Mia.

Matty squirms to be put down, but she holds on tightly. "Bud, the ground's too slippery," she explains to him, hoping he'll understand. "You're going to end up sliding and landing on your bottom, and then what, huh? You're going to end up cold and wet and grumpy, and Mommy really doesn't want to deal with that, okay?"

He just gives her a toothy smile, and it is glorious.

"I'm glad we understand each other, Little Man," she says, her smile widening when she hears Mia singing to herself, Emma joining in whenever she recognises whatever mismatched song Mia seems to be putting together.

This is her life, and her chest expands with just how full it is.

* * *

"Is that Dr B and Mr St James?"

CR asks the question, and Beca's head snaps up. "What?"

"Over there," Amy says, lifting a hand and pointing somewhere to their right as the small group emerges from the main building. Beca would, perhaps, prefer spending time with Chloe, but CR and Amy have claimed her, Emily and Lilly, while Chloe's gone off with Aubrey, Stacie, Jessica and a handful of others Beca didn't pay too much attention to.

Just, Chloe is celebrating elsewhere, and Beca is trying not to be disheartened by it. It isn't even as if they've spent significant time just the two of them out of school, so she can't figure out why she expected today to be the day that changes.

Beca's eyes are on Rachel, who is leaning in to Mr St James as she talks, and it looks weirdly intimate. Beca searches the area for any sign of Quinn, her heart pounding in her chest, because not them too.

Not them. Please.

"Is he her husband?" Emily - oh sweet, innocent Emily - asks.

"No," Beca answers, certain, and all eyes fall on her. "I mean, come on, you've seen the way they are with each other."

"It could be some weird kind of foreplay," Amy points out.

Beca rolls her eyes, finally catching sight of the back of Quinn's lithe form, standing at the swings with their children. She can't stop her own breath of relief, because, honestly, Quinn is right there.

"Come on," CR eventually says. "I was promised ice cream."

* * *

In all her years on Earth, Rachel didn't imagine she would ever say the words, "Please don't tell me you've actually egged two women in your life," to Jesse St James with a serious expression.

Jesse winces. "To be fair, I wasn't aware Tessa was pregnant at the time."

Rachel levels him with a glare she thinks Quinn would be proud of. "Jesse," she says; "you have a daughter."

Despite himself, his mouth stretches into a smile. "I'm aware, thank you," he says. "She's pretty great, isn't she?"

"She is," Rachel easily agrees. "I didn't even know."

He shrugs. "I didn't know you were married to Fabray."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I'm still unsure how that could be," she says. "How could you not know?"

Jesse doesn't have a response, and, frankly, does it even matter?

"You have a daughter," Rachel says again, and she can't tell why this moment is so significant. She knows something has changed. She's fully aware she won't be able to sit back and let Jesse and Steph exist so separately, but she's also aware of Tessa's decisions... that probably have more to do with just being egged.

There's a story there, and Rachel is suddenly certain she's going to do what she can to reunite a parent and daughter.

She ignores the guilt that she's not willing to do the same for her own wife.

* * *

Chloe checks her phone for the time, but she's really checking to see if Beca has responded to her Snap.

She hasn't.

Her disappointment manifests as a small frown, and Stacie notices, breaking away from the group and stepping into her stride. She and Stacie haven't really _talked_ before - they're both more friends with Aubrey - but there's something about the girl that resonates with Chloe. She's just so unapologetically herself. She doesn't seem to care at all about what anyone thinks, and it is a breath of fresh air.

"Everything okay?" Stacie asks, eyes a little concerned. "We just won, you know? We're going to _celebrate_."

Chloe locks her phone, and then slips it into the back pocket of her jeans. "I know," she says slowly. "I just - I kind of wish we were celebrating all together."

Stacie blinks, and then grins knowingly at her. "Oh. I see."

Chloe looks away immediately, tensing. What - what is that supposed to mean? "It's just that it's our first win, you know? It feels wrong not to... do something all together."

Stacie keeps her gaze on her for a beat too long, and then says, "We could always organise to do something over Break."

Chloe can't quite bring herself to relax. "Some kind of bonding thing?"

"It definitely wouldn't hurt," Stacie says, and her own gaze drifts to where Aubrey and Jessica are hunched over some magazine article as they walk. "We're all kind of new to one another. It might help to get to know a bit more about our teammates, right?"

Chloe blinks. "Right," she says, because that makes a lot of sense. And it will have the added benefit of allowing her to spend time with Beca in a way that, hopefully, won't be overwhelming.

In a group setting. Around other people.

That sounds doable.

Chloe manages to smile at Stacie, less worried that Stacie seems to know something Chloe hasn't told her. "I'll mention it in the group chat," she says. "See when everyone is available."

Stacie smiles back at her, a little too knowingly, before her gaze drifts away once more, and Chloe can't help but wonder if Stacie's suggestion is more selfish than selfless.

* * *

Rachel says, "I want donut holes," very seriously. "Lots and lots of donut holes."

Quinn laughs, her hands shifting on the steering wheel, as she drives them away from Rachel's parents' house. "I don't even know how 'donut holes' has become some code for sex." She pauses. "Even though, now that I say it out loud, it sounds supremely dirty."

"Our kids are getting older," Rachel replies, unapologetically letting her hand rest on Quinn's exposed thigh. She laughs when Quinn swerves just slightly at the contact.

"Baby," Quinn warns, though there's little bite in her tone.

"We're going to have to start getting even more creative," Rachel says. "Emma's going to figure out her mommies aren't just _playing_ the next time she catches us with your hand down my pants."

"Fuck," Quinn breathes, which could be in response to Rachel's words, but has more to do with the hand that's sliding upwards. "Rachel."

"What are we doing tonight, anyway?" Rachel asks, acting unaffected.

Quinn audibly swallows, doing her best to focus on the task of driving. "Uh, it's a surprise?"

"I bet I could get you to tell me."

" _Jesus_."

Rachel laughs, obviously enjoying herself. "I'm sorry, but he's not here right now," she says, her smile wide and delightfully naughty. "And, even if he were, he wouldn't be able to save you."

Quinn just shakes her head. "You are dangerous," she says, quiet and a little in awe.

"I am a winner," Rachel declares. "And, so are you."

Quinn glances at her. "You know, I already won the most important prize the day you agreed to let me be yours," she says, and the words alter the atmosphere in the car quite dramatically. With the little retreat coming up and the knowledge that they're both getting older; the words seem charged with something very particular.

The desire and lust linger, of course, but Rachel's features soften into something genuine, the smirk giving way to emotion that she reserves only for her adoring wife. "You're happy here, right?" she finds herself asking, and Quinn doesn't immediately respond.

"What do you mean?"

"In Lima," Rachel clarifies. "I know I'm the one who had to convince you."

"I'm the one who first suggested it."

Rachel sighs. "Only after I had a complete breakdown over the fact my father didn't realise he was talking to his _daughter_ on the phone," she points out. "You tend to make rash decisions when I'm emotional."

"So, basically, I'm _always_ making rash decisions?" Quinn teases, and Rachel squeezes her thigh until she yelps.

"Do you really want to gamble with these donut holes?" Rachel questions.

Quinn groans around a laugh. "God, we really need to stop," she says. "I'll never be able to look at a donut the same way again."

"I'm surprised you look at it in a not-dirty way already," Rachel points out.

"Not all of us are dirty-minded, Rachel," Quinn says primly.

Rachel allows her a moment. "You haven't answered my question," she says. "Are you happy? Here? In Lima?"

"Technically, we're no longer in Lima," Quinn says, needlessly and obviously stalling as she points out that they have, in fact, left the town limits.

"Quinn."

Quinn licks her lips. "Did - did you notice that Beca's, uh, parents weren't there today?" she asks.

Rachel's jaw clenches, but she nods. "I did."

"I'm not unhappy," Quinn finally reveals, which is probably not what either of them wants to hear. "It's different, and I can't help keeping some kind of tally in my head."

"Of?"

"The things that make the move here worth it."

Rachel frowns for a moment. "Have you just added Beca to that list?"

"I think she's been on it for a while," Quinn confesses. She thinks she could mention Chloe, but that seems like a heavier, different conversation. "I - I have this idea," she says instead. "About… us."

"Us?"

"With how it's been with Beca, even if she's a special case."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn doesn't look at her when she says, "I think my entire high school experience would have been a lot different if I had better role models."

Rachel scoffs, because isn't that an understatement?

"Just, better adults, in general," Quinn continues. "And, I've been thinking about ways we can help… more."

Rachel remains silent, letting Quinn continue.

"Some kind of… mentor program," Quinn says quietly. "For LGBT youth. I just - I look at what we're doing, for all the young people around us, and I - what if what they need is someone they can just go to? With questions, or just to talk. To understand that what they're experiencing isn't something new or strange. It doesn't have to be so confusing; working through all the change that comes with learning about your true self. What if that was something we could help with?"

Rachel doesn't say anything for a long, long time. "I - that - Quinn."

"What?"

"Is this something… big?" she asks. "Something you'd want to pursue in our community?"

Quinn frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I just - I would be remiss not to point out just how… LGBT people are sometimes viewed," she says, careful and purposeful. "Around young people."

Quinn is smart, so she already knows what Rachel is talking about. "It's just an idea," she says, deflating.

Rachel squeezes her knee. "I know your heart is in the right place," she says. "We do good work already, unofficially, and I know we could help a lot more people, but - we are a gay couple in Ohio. We're teachers, which means we deal with minors on a daily basis. We have children. I just - I don't think it's a good idea to alter public opinion by drawing too much attention to ourselves. It's _why_ we try to stay as anonymous as possible, remember? To make sure our children get as normal a childhood as possible, beyond the fact they have two, famous mothers."

Quinn can barely look at her.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says, and she sounds it. "I wish - "

"Yeah," Quinn murmurs, eyes still firmly locked on the road.

Rachel leans over to kiss her cheek, letting her lips linger until she feels Quinn start to relax. "So," she quips, "where are we going?"

Quinn rolls her eyes, but her shoulders lose their tension and her brow relaxes. She knows what Rachel is doing, and she allows it to happen. "Baby," she says, glancing at Rachel; "we're going dancing."

The smile that blooms across Rachel's face is _so_ worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** The song used in this chapter is _Never Stop (Wedding Version)_ by SafetySuit. It is an amazing song.

* * *

**XI**

Beca doesn't really panic over what she's supposed to get Rachel as a birthday present until she's lying in bed on Sunday night, eyes a little wide as she tries to think of something she could give the woman who has unknowingly and unwittingly given her so much in return.

She can't come up with anything.

Whatever she thinks of just doesn't seem right, and she doesn't really have the chance to buy anything before the morning. Or, just before the dinner she's agreed to attend with the family. Maybe she'll get a chance to pick up something in the afternoon.

But what?

With a sigh, she reaches for her phone, thinks hard about what she's going to do, and then texts Quinn.

 **Beca** : _I don't know what to get for Rachel. Please help_.

It takes nearly four minutes to get a reply, and Beca almost convinces herself that getting Rachel a puppy is a good idea.

 **Quinn** : _Good evening to you, too, Beca. I'm doing great, thank you, and how are you? How's my Sunday been, you ask... well, it's been an interesting one, for sure_ 😏

Beca grins widely, flushing a little, and then startles when her phone buzzes again.

 **Quinn** : _But, in all honesty, just your presence would be enough. I don't know if you've noticed, but she kind of goes gaga for you_.

Beca feels herself blush, heart stuttering a little in her chest. It's something she _has_ noticed, sure, but she was almost convinced she was imagining it. Wishful thinking. She won't even deny that she feels the same way, though she won't ever admit it.

And, don't even get her started on how she feels about Quinn. This woman, who she knows is _there_ , though she makes sure not to hover. This woman she knows will protect her and fight for her, regardless of the situation.

Quinn and Rachel give her safety, and Beca can't figure out how she can convey her gratitude for that. In a gift.

 **Beca** : _Hi, Quinn, I'm okay. Sorry, yeah, just trying to figure out the perfect gift_.

 **Quinn** : _You already know what she likes, Bec_ ️

 **Beca** : _Music_?

 **Quinn** : _God, she would DIE if you produced something for her!_

 **Quinn** : _Actually, I think we can help each other out here. Unless you're against the idea of working with an original song_.

Beca sits up quite suddenly, practically throwing off her covers. She barely wastes a second before she hits Quinn's Caller ID, immediately dialling her number.

It takes six rings for Quinn to answer with a quiet, "Give me a sec while I evade my five-foot-three shadow," that makes Beca laugh.

Beca scrambles out of bed to power up her laptop, as she hears Quinn say words such as _no, baby, I'm just going to my office_ and _it's Siobhan, she sent me something I need to look at before tomorrow_ and _try to get some sleep, it's a big day tomorrow_.

There's a lot of shuffling, the sound of clicking, and then Quinn very clearly says, "All right, I've made my escape."

Beca settles in her desk chair. "Are you saying you have an original song?" she asks, getting right to it.

"Straight to business, I see," Quinn says; "I like it." She clears her throat. "And, I mean, it didn't start out as a song, but rather a... poem kind of thing."

"That you wrote?"

Quinn is silent for a moment. "I'm a writer, Beca," she says, a little carefully. "It's what I do."

Beca shifts in her seat. "Is this your way of telling me you're secretly famous the same way Rachel is?" She asks it as a joke, but she can't deny her curiosity at how close to the truth she must be.

Quinn expertly bypasses the question. "I wrote the poem thing a while ago. I initially planned on giving it to her for our wedding anniversary, but with the move and Lee and three kids; it was all just a bit rushed, so I wasn't able to finish it up the way I wanted to. It's kind of lyrical, and there's some music attached, so I thought maybe you could take a look, if you're interested."

Beca leans forward to open up all her music programs. "So you have a melody?" she asks.

"Kind of," Quinn says. "Not really. I mean, mainly for the chorus. I can hear it in my head, so I guess I could put it on paper. Give me a second."

Beca doesn't speak as she listens to Quinn hum to herself and sing under her breath. It's kind of amazing that Quinn and Rachel are both musical, in some way.

This is something she could be doing, one day. Putting together an original song for her significant other.

For Chloe.

Beca flushes at the thought, and then jumps in her seat when Quinn suddenly speaks, "Let me just send you what I have and you can see what we're working with."

Beca quickly gives Quinn her email address, and then waits as she hears light clicking on Quinn's end. It arrives a moment later, just a Word document separated into two columns. Lyrics on one side, and music lines on the other, populated with several music notes.

"I've written songs for Rachel before," Quinn explains. "Some she's even recorded as - " she stops quite suddenly. "I mean, I'm no stranger to writing songs, is what I'm trying to say, but they usually go through a lot of production before they're anything special, so I thought this could be - "

"I feel as if I've learned so much," Beca says. "She's totally more famous than I think, isn't she?"

Quinn hums. "What if I told you we both are?"

"I don't even know what to do with that information."

Quinn laughs. "Let's work on this song," she says, carefully evading. "We can work on the melody until you get too tired."

"I'm going to be up all night," Beca informs her, already reading the words Quinn has put together for Rachel.

"As a parent and an actual teacher, I want it put on record that I do not condone this behaviour," Quinn says. "But, as Quinn, who is totally hip and cool, I'm all for it."

"You are so weird."

"I'm aware," Quinn says. "Now, I was thinking we start a cappella."

* * *

Rachel wakes to gentle fingers on her skin and a head between her thighs.

It takes a while for her brain to catch up to exactly what's happening, and she has just enough time to ask herself _where did my pants go?_ before Quinn's tongue flicks a certain way, and who freaking cares?

Happy birthday, indeed.

* * *

Chloe gets a text at one o'clock in the morning from Beca, asking to meet her early at school. Now that their Sectional competition is over, there aren't any early morning Cheerio practices for a while, and Chloe was looking forward to at least another hour of sleep.

But Beca needs something from her, and Chloe wouldn't even dream of denying her.

What she doesn't expect is Beca dragging her into Dr Berry's office and saying, "I need you to sing for me."

"What?"

Beca holds her wrist as she tugs her further into the office and closes the door behind them. "I need you to sing for me," she repeats, blinking several times. "A song. It's already written, and I've already laid the track with my own voice, but you have a better range, and I need you and your voice, so please will you sing for me."

Chloe blinks, taking in the dark circles under Beca's eyes and the way she can't seem to sit still. "Have you even slept?" she asks before she can stop herself, and Beca rolls her eyes.

"Chloe," Beca whines. "If you won't do it, please just tell me, so I can ask Emily to - "

"I'll do it," Chloe says so quickly that it surprises them both. "Of course, I'll do it," she says, sounding more sedate. "Just, maybe some more context would be good?"

Beca winces. "It's, uh, I'm not sure how to explain it," she says. "I'm putting together a song written for Dr Berry, as some kind of... favour. It's her birthday today."

Chloe just stares. "A song... written by whom?"

"Uh, by her significant other," Beca answers, looking only slightly uncomfortable.

"You've met?"

Beca nods, visibly choosing not to comment further on that topic. "Please will you help me."

Chloe barely hesitates before she says, "Where do you want me?" and does her best not to think about the double entendre those words present.

* * *

It's during the third run-through of the song that Beca knows she has to say something. It's niggling at her, and it doesn't seem as if Chloe has noticed.

Or, if she has, she's doing a good job of acting otherwise.

"Why does your voice keep doing that?" Beca asks, frowning as the song comes to an end. "I've heard you reach that note before, easy. Do you have a cold?"

Beca's sure she's not imagining the slightly panicked look that appears on Chloe's face for a few precious seconds, before she forces a smile.

"I guess I haven't warmed up properly," she deflects, and Beca's frown deepens. "How does it sound?"

"Chloe," Beca says, abandoning her laptop and turning her body to face Chloe properly. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Chloe says, squeaking. "I guess my voice is just tired or something. We've done a lot of rehearsal the past few weeks."

Beca eyes her carefully. "Why didn't you say something?" she asks, just knowing Chloe isn't telling the whole truth, even if she can't figure out why.

"You asked for my help," Chloe tells her, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "I'm fine." She visibly pauses. "Does it sound horrible?"

"No," Beca immediately says. "You sound amazing, as always, but, if I can hear something's up, then Dr B definitely will, as well."

This time, Chloe's panic lasts far longer, and Beca knows there's definitely more to it. Her voice isn't just... tired. There's something wrong.

Beca steels herself to question Chloe further, but there's a knock on the door, and both girls jump. Beca frowns, because Quinn assured her nobody would be in Rachel's office until at least second period.

And Rachel wouldn't actually knock on her own office's door.

Beca gets to her feet to open the door, and she's presented with what looks like a wall of flowers.

"Is this Rachel Berry's office?" a voice asks from behind the colourful flowers.

"Uh, yeah, it is," Beca confirms.

"Awesome," the voice says. "Give us a minute."

Beca steps aside when the flowers move forward, the man holding the massive vase stepping into the office and setting the main piece on Rachel's desk.

Beca notes that it really is the main piece, because there are another four, smaller bouquets that accompany it, beautifully complimenting one another.

Once all the flowers are in place, the man smiles at Beca. "You're Beca Mitchell, right?"

Beca just stares, nodding slowly.

"Cool," he says; "we were told you could sign for the delivery."

Beca takes the pen he offers and signs her name, and then they're gone, leaving her and Chloe with hundreds of flowers, the scent overwhelming.

"Oh, my God," Chloe says, eyes a little wide. "She's going to arrive to a room full of flowers. That's - god, that's perfect."

Beca finds herself smiling, because it is kind of perfect. She immediately takes out her phone and snaps several pictures of the flowers that she sends to Quinn.

She gets a reply a beat later.

 **Quinn** : _Cool, they look awesome! Rachel's going to love it_ 😈

Then.

 **Quinn** : _Is that Chloe_?

Beca's own eyes widen, because of course Quinn knows Chloe. She's a cheerleader, and Quinn is the cheerleading coach. Still, it feels as if she's revealed something important by sending these pictures.

 **Beca** : _She's helping me with the song_.

 **Quinn** : _That's great, Bec_ 💛 _How's it coming along? Anything I can do to help?_

 **Beca** : _You could change your mind about singing it_.

 **Quinn** : _Don't push it, Mitchell_.

 **Beca** : _You know she'd go crazy if it were your voice_.

Quinn doesn't reply for a while, and Beca returns to her seat, smiling at the way Chloe keeps reaching to touch some of the flowers, and then catching herself before she makes contact. It's kind of ridiculously cute, and Beca is tempted to snap a picture of just her, purely for the sake of it.

Her phone buzzes before she can embarrass herself, and her eyes widen at what Quinn has sent in response.

 **Quinn** : _I'll do it only if you sing with me. Deal?_

 **Beca** : _Background vocals only. I'm NOT singing about being in love with your wife!_

 **Quinn** : _Deal_.

 **Beca** : _Deal_.

* * *

As far as birthdays go, Rachel knows this one is already pretty up there.

She knows it's already been years since she was actually _excited_ \- that stopped around the thirty year mark - about getting a year older, but she's passed her big four-oh, and she has at least nine years before she has to worry about the bigger half-century.

Gosh, that's the last thing she wants to be thinking about right now.

She's in a great mood, truly. Between Quinn's loving attention, breakfast in bed with her monsters, and Quinn making sure to allow her a bit of a lie-in while she got the kids ready and off to their respective places; Rachel is well-rested, well-fed, and deeply satisfied.

So, when she arrives at her office a little later than usual, she gets something of the shock of her life to find it practically bursting with all of her favourite flowers. She freezes in the doorway, her heart stuttering in her chest, because, goodness, her wife is perfect.

A little crazy, too moody and broody, but just so very perfect. Stunning, too, and caring and so loving, and how is Rachel supposed to survive a life where Quinn Fabray chooses her every day?

She doesn't know how long she stands in her doorway, taking in every petal in front of her, heart pounding. They're just flowers, she knows, but it feels like more than that.

This is Quinn, her wife, saying something very particular about their relationship and the way they showcase it in their workplace. She knows they work at keeping it on the down low while they're in public, in general. Hiding is somewhat natural by now, but can they realistically live their authentic lives that way? And for how long?

Rachel knows Quinn very well, which means the flowers are just the beginning, really. She blushes right through the day, deflecting questions when asked if the flowers are from her husband.

The question prickles at her nerves, because it's never been something she's not proud of, regardless of what Quinn has warned her about. It's another reason they've made sure to be so anonymous in their respective careers. They knew, early on, the effect their sexuality could have, not only on their careers, but more importantly on the children they intended to have.

Because babies were always in the plan for them. Even before they started dating, just as friends, they discussed their mutual desires to have children of their own - it just never really occurred to Rachel they would ever have them together, at the time.

Rachel _has_ always wanted a big family. Growing up as an only child gave her the perspective she needed, and Quinn, while initially worrying over whether she would make a good parent, has always wanted the same thing.

Their lives are something to be envied, and Rachel wishes they didn't have to be so worried about just living them.

Rachel _does_ know her wife, which is why she finds it odd that Quinn doesn't show up during their shared lunch period. She does get a food delivery, straight to her office, but Quinn is nowhere to be found. Beyond the quick text of _working through lunch, sorry_ , Rachel hasn't seen her since she slid out of their bed this morning.

And the fact that Rachel is aware of just how Quinn works - most of the time - she knows Quinn must be up to something. Her birthday is meant to be something low-key. It's what she asked for, anyway. It's just a small dinner, basically a family affair, and Rachel wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially since it falls on a Monday.

Having a birthday so close to Christmas doesn't really make it easy to have a dedicated celebration, even though Quinn has tried, over the years. Rachel has to admit that she's had some traumatic birthdays in the past - more so when she was much younger - and she suffers some kind of Pavlovian reaction to the day.

Typically, she gets more excited about the birthdays in her family, majority of them falling during the first few months of the calendar year.

She hesitates on the thought, because Beca is born in September. Which, yeah, is a dangerous thought to have.

All she knows is she's forty-one now, and she's definitely feeling it.

* * *

"Did you _see_ the flowers?" Aubrey asks, eyes a little wide, as she settles into the chair beside Chloe in the cafeteria for lunch. "I don't think I was allergic until I walked into her office."

Chloe just smiles, listening as Aubrey explains what she's talking about to a few of the other cheerleaders who aren't part of Glee.

"Oh?" Lori says. "I didn't even ask; did you guys win?"

Chloe beams, proud of their victory. "We did," she reveals.

"And it seems Dr B has just won again," Aubrey says, innuendo in her voice. They've been all sorts of rumours flying around about who the flower shop is from, and most have accepted they're from her spouse.

Her husband.

Something about it doesn't sit well with Chloe, but she can't seem to figure out why... or that the feeling is actually familiar - just attached to a different teacher.

"Do you know what Vince got me for my birthday?" Isabella says, pouting slightly. "A coupon. To Breadstix."

Chloe winces, because their friend really needs to find herself a better boyfriend.

"And, it was expired," Isabella adds, rolling her eyes. "I wish I could get a room full of flowers."

Chloe stops herself from saying, _that's some Supercorp stuff right there_ , because she's pretty sure her friends wouldn't understand. She's been taking Dr Fabray's advice and trying to immerse herself in whatever communities and fandoms she stumbles upon. It's all so very interesting, and she wonders what she was doing with her life before she was _aware_.

"Or just a bouquet," Lori adds.

Aubrey hums.

Chloe contemplates bringing up the song she's also getting, but decides against it. She wouldn't even know how to explain how she knows about it, and she doesn't really want to add more to the obvious speculation about their teacher's marriage. Despite her own curiosity, she feels oddly protective of Dr Berry's privacy. It could even be part of Beca's obvious protection, but she's not willing to unpack it right now. Or ever, maybe.

Aubrey pats her knee under the table. "How many exams do you have left?"

"Just one," Chloe tells her. "On Tuesday." She turns her head. "You have two, right?"

Aubrey sighs. "Unfortunately."

Chloe narrows her eyes slightly. "What's wrong?" she asks. "You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you know you're hiding something from me, and you're making it my job to figure it out." The second the words leave her mouth, she has to tell herself she's a hypocrite, because she knows she's doing the exact same thing.

Aubrey looks caught, before her facial expression switches to a mixture of anger and disbelief. She's probably about to throw the words straight back at Chloe, but they're interrupted by Sadie excitedly saying, "Fuck, yeah," and making them both jump. "Bumper just confirmed his party for Saturday. We're getting shit-faced."

Chloe clenches her fists in her lap, frowning at this brief interaction and wondering if the disconnect between them is her own fault or actually Aubrey's.

* * *

Quinn picks up on Beca's nerves from the moment they arrive at the restaurant. And, if she notices it, then Rachel definitely will, as well. Quinn isn't sure what to say to ease her, because even she's a little nervous. She hasn't used her voice to sing anything worthwhile in some years now, and the way Beca had stared at her when she sang the first notes was an expression she's grown used to.

It's unexpected, apparently.

They worked right through their lunch hour, Beca playing what she and Chloe had worked out, before they sat together and adjusted the key to fit both their voices. All Quinn _knows_ is that Rachel is going to end up in tears.

The recording, itself, is a little sloppy, made on Beca's phone, and then produced on her laptop. The entire creative process behind it was fascinating for Quinn to witness. She's seen Rachel in the studio, the way her eyes close and she loses herself in the music. It's a little different with Beca, whose focus is sharp and unparalleled when it comes to the music she's making. They met in one of the music rooms, Quinn able to use the piano and guitar to give them live music, while Beca produced the rest.

Quinn might have had it a little more upbeat, but Beca slowed it, giving it more of an acoustic feel, and it might have something to do with the limitations on time and equipment, but it really works.

And, yet, Beca is nervous, and Rachel shoots Quinn a curious look the moment she notices.

Quinn, who is seated across the round table from her, just shrugs. She doesn't have an explanation that doesn't give away the surprise, so she rather focuses on Mia, who is telling Beca about her karate lesson. Because Emma's season has gone on a break, the family was able to spend parts of the afternoon with Hiram and LeRoy.

Quinn knows Rachel won't ever admit it, but being able to go out into public with her fathers is something she misses. Just, being able to visit the theatre or even take a walk through a farmer's market all together. Things they took for granted before life caught up to them in some of the worst ways.

Beca's actually been with them all afternoon, leaving school with Quinn and accompanying her to pick up Matty early, while Rachel fetched Mia and Emma. Now they're here, after a quick karate lesson, and Beca doesn't seem as settled as she's been for the past few hours.

Quinn places their order after a brief discussion, opting for sushi for herself, Beca and Rachel, and kids' fish and chips for the children. She's already told Beca that _she_ has to be the one to give Rachel their joint present, and that's going to take as long as it takes.

While Beca works through whatever has her so nervous, Quinn pays attention to Mia, who is still dressed in her white karategi - which, Quinn now knows is the name for her practice uniform - and Quinn winces at the thought of Mia messing ketchup on herself.

She _does_ have experience with getting stains out of white clothing, after all.

* * *

Beca's hands shake as she hands her phone and headphones to Rachel, her smile hesitant. She doesn't even know why she's nervous. She knows Rachel noticed early on, but they've managed to eat their food without her bringing it up, which is something Beca definitely appreciates.

It's during dessert when Beca decides its time. There's no reason to put it off. What's the worst that could happen? Rachel would probably just give them notes on how to improve it, because Beca has to admit it's a lot unpolished, given their rushed job. With more time, she's sure she could get it as close to perfect as possible.

Well.

There's always next year.

"What's this?" Rachel asks, smiling through her confusion as she takes the phone and headphones from Beca.

"Happy birthday," is all Beca can think to say, gesturing for Rachel to put on the headphones.

It takes only a moment for Rachel to click, and tears immediately pool in her eyes. "You made me a song?" she asks, barely whispering.

"Kind of," Beca admits, gesturing again, suddenly wishing Rachel would stop looking at her like that. "You have to listen to find out."

Rachel must sense Beca doesn't have much more she's willing to say, so she slips the headphones over her ears, clarifies she's on the correct song, and then presses play.

Beca's heard the song more times than she count at this point, and the volume is loud enough that she can still hear her notes as they were played just some hours ago. She's forever going to have memories of coaxing Quinn's voice out of her. It's always going to be special, regardless of the final product.

_This is my love song to you  
_ _Let every woman know I'm yours  
_ _So you can fall asleep each night, babe  
_ _And know I'm dreaming of you more_

_You're always hoping that we make it  
_ _You always want to keep my gaze  
_ _Well you're the only one I see, love  
_ _And that's the one thing that won't change_

_I will never stop trying  
_ _I will never stop watching as you leave  
_ _I will never stop losing my breath  
_ _Every time I see you looking back at me  
_ _And I will never stop holding your hand  
_ _I will never stop opening your door  
_ _I will never stop choosing you babe  
_ _I will never get used to you_

_And with this love song to you  
_ _It's not a momentary phase  
_ _You are my life, I don't deserve you  
_ _But you love me just the same  
_ _And as the mirror says we're older  
_ _I will not look the other way  
_ _You are my life, my love, my only  
_ _And that's the one thing that won't change_

_I will never stop trying  
_ _I will never stop watching as you leave  
_ _I will never stop losing my breath  
_ _Every time I see you looking back at me  
_ _And I will never stop holding your hand  
_ _I will never stop opening your door  
_ _I will never stop choosing you babe  
_ _I will never get used to you_

_You still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (for you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (for you)_

_I will never stop trying  
_ _I will never stop watching as you leave  
_ _I will never stop losing my breath  
_ _Every time I see you looking back at me  
_ _And I will never stop holding your hand  
_ _I will never stop opening your door  
_ _I will never stop choosing you babe  
_ _I will never get used to you_

_You still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (for you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (for you)_

_Still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _S_ _till get my heart racing (for you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (you)  
_ _Still get my heart racing (for you)_

The resulting tears aren't surprising, and Beca watches as Rachel quickly presses a button to replay the song, her eyes closing as the song restarts. She exchanges a look with Quinn, who looks just as emotional, really, even as she listens to Emma tell her some story about school. She's sure she's heard Aaron's name a handful of times, and she's left to wonder if her brother is also a hellion when he's at school.

She's still listening in to Emma laughing at her own story when she feels a hand cover her own, and she just about manages not to startle at the contact. Rachel is normally gentle with her, but the grip on her hand is strong enough that Beca has to force herself not to wince.

Because she _understands_.

Music - God, _music_ is so powerful, and Beca can put herself in Rachel's shoes enough to know _why_ she would be this affected. Not only are the lyrics magical, but the sheer idea of them being sung by Quinn - the literal love of her life - could turn anyone into a blubbering mess.

"You really did this?" Rachel asks, barely a whisper over the din of the restaurant. "For me?"

Beca looks at Quinn for some help, but Quinn's gaze is locked on Rachel - surprise, surprise. The look on her face is something to behold, though, and Beca can't resist wishing for a day that Chloe could look at her that way.

"I'm guessing you like it," Beca manages to say, smiling hesitantly.

"I _love_ it," Rachel emphasises. "This is - wow, I don't even know what to say."

"Which _never_ happens, Bec," Quinn says, trying to ease the heaviness in the moment.

Rachel rolls her eyes before she uses her cloth napkin to wipe her eyes. She removes the headphones and sets them on the table, her hands shaking slightly. "I think this is one of the greatest gifts I've ever received," she admits quietly. "And, it goes beyond the music, itself. It's - " she stops, unable to make sense of her own words. "Just, thank you, Beca. I really appreciate it." Her gaze shifts to Quinn, and Beca has to look away, feeling oddly as if she's witnessing a private moment.

Beca catches Emma's gaze instead, and the nine-year-old rolls her eyes before mouthing the word, "Gross."

It is, a little, but, God, Beca wants this, too.

* * *

Chloe gets a text later that evening, from Beca, who she's already been thinking about.

 _She loved it_ , it reads, _totally ugly cried and everything_.

Chloe feels her chest expand slightly, though she can't pinpoint exactly why. Her phone buzzes in her hand, indicating a second text.

 _Thank you for all your help today. I definitely couldn't have done it without you_.

Another one, and another and another.

_I want you to know that I've kind of guessed something is bothering you, and I totally get your not wanting to talk about it with me. But. I also want you to know that you can, if you want to. Whatever it is._

_Cool._

_Whenever you're ready_.

A pause.

 _Goodnight, and thank you again_ ️

Chloe stares at the words for the longest time, her heart beating a little too fast in her chest. Her bed is soft and warm beneath her body, and yet she still feels cold all over.

There are things in the world that scare her, and Beca is one of them. She knows - _knows_ \- she won't be able to hide from Beca if ever she were to ask the right question. Chloe isn't even sure she wants to.

Chloe rolls onto her side, unsure how to respond to Beca. It's been a stressful few weeks. Months. Years, really. And Chloe carries all that stress in her chest and on her shoulders and in her brain.

She carries it, alone, because Aubrey has her own demons, and Chloe has always been the kind of person who appears to have everything figured out. She even managed to 'bounce back' from Patrick's death somewhat unscathed.

But, here Beca is, offering herself as someone Chloe can need.

Want.

Rely on.

Confide in.

Be with.

 _It is terrifying_.

With a sigh, she stuffs her phone under her pillow, and then gets to her feet. It isn't actually that late, but Beca clearly didn't get enough sleep the night before, so it makes sense she would be going to sleep now.

Chloe is exhausted as well, but she's not tired.

She doesn't think she could fall asleep, anyway. She steps out of her bedroom and listens for any sounds. When she hears nothing, she heads down the stairs, suddenly wishing for some ginger tea. Or ginseng. Just something soothing, for her -

She sees her too late, and Chloe strolls right into the kitchen to find her mother sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing her own cup of tea.

The moment is so foreign, and Chloe wouldn't even know what to say if her voice could work. She can't remember a time she's been alone with her mother since school started, and she wonders just what Patrick would think of that.

Maggie Beale just stares back at Chloe, looking equally unsure, until she says, "The water in the kettle should still be hot," as if she knows that's the reason Chloe's come downstairs.

As if she still knows her daughter.

Chloe considers walking right back out of the kitchen, but she's trying to be mature these days - possibly failing, but at least she's trying - and she really does want some tea. So she steps further into the kitchen and goes about her business, all too aware of her mother's gaze on her, heavy as it is.

Chloe wonders if she looks at her and doesn't recognise her, either.

Once Chloe's tea is set and brewing, she feels the awkwardness creep in. She thinks, in another life, she could have talked to her mother about her growing feelings for Beca. She could have talked to Patrick, too, but here she is, alone in a world full of people, her voice caught in her throat.

"I received another call from Dr Holding," Maggie ends up saying, which is maybe worse than anything else. Chloe definitely prefers the silence. "Why haven't you gone back to see him?"

Chloe stares at her for the longest time, wondering if the most they're ever going to talk about is doctor's appointments.

Maybe it's safest.

"I don't have time," Chloe responds, which isn't exactly a lie. She's been exceptionally busy, but even she knows it's not a good excuse. She just doesn't want to hear what Dr Holding has to say... because she already knows what he's going to say.

"Chloe," Maggie sighs. "You have to make time. It's important." She meets Chloe's gaze. "It's dangerous."

Obviously, her mother doesn't understand, and Chloe isn't willing to waste her breath trying to explain it again and again. She'll go when she's ready, and she's definitely not ready yet.

She's not willing to gamble with her voice.

Not now, and not ever.

* * *

Beca tries not to feel too disappointed when she wakes to find Chloe still hasn't responded to her texts. She wonders if she overstepped somehow, but she doesn't quite regret it. It's something she felt she needed to say. So Chloe knows.

So she's aware.

So she believes that Beca means it, because she does.

It's odd for her, getting up in the morning and going through her morning routine. She doesn't know when she even developed something of a routine, because she was always a hot mess in the mornings in Portland.

She sobers whenever she realises she's changed to accommodate her situation... the way she did when her mother got sick and couldn't take care of her the way she did Before. It's how she's split her life, into a Before and an After her mother got sick.

Before and After she passed away.

Just left her behind.

Beca shakes her head of the thoughts. If she just goes about her business with little trouble, she can avoid hearing Sheila's grating voice or seeing her father mutter under his breath.

And, after the shitshow that was last night, Beca isn't in the mood for any type of clash. She can't tell which would have been worse: telling them she was with Quinn and Rachel, or not telling them anything at all.

In the end, she decided to say she was with CR, already knowing the girl would cover for her. The lie still tastes like acid on her tongue, not because it's a lie, but because she shouldn't _have_ to lie. It just makes her miss Before that bit more.

Aaron, Sheila and her father are already at the breakfast table when she gets downstairs, and one look at their faces almost makes her walk right back out.

But then Aaron says, "I hate you," and she freezes, thinking it's directed at her.

It's not.

It's aimed at his parents, and Beca knows she has to walk right back out. She definitely, definitely has to. She doesn't want any part of this. But Aaron looks so angry, and heartbroken, so Beca walks further into the room, prepared to face whatever this is _with_ him.

It doesn't take long to figure out Aaron is reacting to the news he's going to be switching soccer teams in the new year. Beca's breath catches at the news, and she decides she hates them too, on Aaron's behalf.

"No," Aaron says, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm staying with the Beansprouts."

"It's already decided, Aaron," Sheila says, somewhat dismissively. "You'll be a member of the Cauliflowers when the season resumes."

Aaron's jaw drops. "Not only are you making me switch teams, but you want me join the _Cauliflowers_?" he practically screeches, and Beca flinches, as Sheila's eyes widen in surprise at the outburst.

"Aaron," David warns, voice a little raised.

Aaron ignores him. "You want me to join the team where Justin plays?" he accuses. "When you know he hurt Emma, and you know he bul - " he stops quite suddenly, eyes wet with tears he won't shed at the injustice of it all.

Beca sits beside him, resting a hand on his back and moving it in a soothing circle. She doesn't need him to finish his sentence to know what he's trying to say. Because she's been there, forced to interact with people who... are mean to her.

"Mom," Aaron finally says, his voice shaking. "Please don't make me leave my friends."

Sheila looks conflicted for the first time, and Beca hopes _hopes_ that she gives her son at least this. How can she look at the expression on his face and remain unaffected? It's impossible.

It must be.

Which is why Beca is convinced she isn't human, when she says, "It's already decided, Aaron."

Aaron glares at her so hard that Beca is surprised her face doesn't crack from the force of it. This time, when he says, "I hate you," it sounds as if he means it with every fibre of his little body, and then scrambles out of his seat and disappears from the kitchen without another word.

It is as awkward as one imagines once he's gone.

"I suppose you have something to add," Sheila says rather sourly.

Beca shrugs. "While I agree with his sentiment, I actually have something else to discuss with you."

David tries to catch her gaze, as if he's trying to get her not to say what he thinks she's about to say. God, she hates him. So much.

"About Christmas," she adds, and she tries not to react to the slump of relief in his shoulders. "I think we'd both like it best if I was out of your hair while you host Sheila's family, so I was thinking about going to Portland for a few days. To visit my grandmother." To visit the only family she has left to love her.

"Beca," David starts, but she just shakes her head.

"It's the best plan," she interrupts, before he can start lecturing on whatever bullshit he's decided he _has_ to say. "You won't have to come up with some explanation for my existence, and I don't have to continue to pretend I don't exist in your lives, _and_ you don't have to worry about any of us slipping up." She glances at the table. "I haven't seen her since just after the funeral. I know you're not into giving your kid what he wants, but I'm kind of hoping you'll allow me this much."

Nobody says anything for the longest time.

"We'll think about it," David finally says, and Beca will take that much.

It could have been worse. They could have flat-out refused.

She just nods slowly, and then gets to her feet, determined to find Aaron before they have to leave for school. She doesn't even know what to say to him, because they both know exactly what this is all about.

Quinn is definitely taking over coaching the team, and Sheila and David are reacting to it. The saddest part is that they probably won't even be the only ones.

Aaron is sitting sullenly on the edge of his bed, his soccer cleats thrown across the room and his kit sprawled out on the floor as if he dealt with them in a rage. His bottom lip is trembling, and Beca doesn't think she's ever seen him look so young. It's a bit of a shock to her system to remember he is only nine years old, probably facing deep disappointment in his parents for the first time.

She knocks gently on the frame of his door, and his eyes snap up. "Beca," he squeaks, but doesn't move.

Beca steps into the room a little cautiously, and then crosses to join him on the edge of the bed. She isn't surprised when he leans against her, because he's almost as tactile as Chloe.

Beca's heart aches a little at the thought of the redhead.

"Do you think they'll hate me?" Aaron asks.

Beca closes her eyes. "Who?"

"My friends."

"If they're really your friends, of course they won't hate you," she says. "They might be sad, maybe a little angry at first, but they'll understand."

"Understand what?" he questions. "They won't even tell me why."

Beca doesn't say anything in response, because they both already know why. "I'm sorry, Bud," she says quietly, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I don't want to be a Cauliflower," he whines, and, under normal circumstance, she might find the sentence amusing. Not now, though.

"I know," she murmurs, resting her cheek against the top of his head. "I know, Bud."

She wouldn't want to be a Cauliflower, either.

* * *

"Sharpay and Gabriella."

Quinn should get used to Chloe's surprising arrivals, but they always manage to catch her off guard. Quinn has taken self-defence classes for years, and yet her heart rate still rises in momentary panic.

Chloe just grins innocently, obviously pretending she hasn't noticed Quinn's shock. "Another two ladies."

Quinn frowns for a beat, and then rolls her eyes. "Troy Bolton was a cultural reset, Beale," she says. "We were obsessed."

Chloe blinks at her. "Really?"

Quinn can sense her disbelief. "I think a part of it was to do with some kind of societal pressure to look at him as some kind of heartthrob, but you already know I wasn't always aware of myself."

Chloe shrugs. "I mean, Zac Efron is hot."

"I'm more of a fan of Chris Hemsworth, myself," Quinn admits, and then shakes her head. "But… what can I do for you, Chloe?"

"Oh, um," the teenager says, her gaze dropping to her feet. "Nothing, really. I just wanted to wish you, you know, uh, happy holidays, or um - "

Quinn turns her body away from where she's watching students leaving for their Winter Break to give Chloe her full attention.

Technically, she's waiting for Rachel, so she can say her own farewell. They decided it was best for Quinn to leave straight from school, having taken the time to explain to the children that Mommy had to go away for a few days. The guilt still sits heavy on Quinn's shoulders, but she needs this, and both she and Rachel know it.

"Happy holidays, to you too, Chloe," Quinn tells her with a soft smile. "What are your plans?"

"Catching up on sleep," Chloe immediately says, chuckling. "And catching up on work. Catching up on a few friends I've had to ignore the past few weeks. Catching up on family."

"Sounds like a lot of catching up," Quinn comments. "Planning on spending any time catching up on yourself?"

Chloe seems to freeze at the question, as if it's the first time she's even considering it. "Huh," she muses. "I suppose so."

Quinn hums. "Self-care is very important," she says, acknowledging just how true that is, especially for herself.

Chloe nods. "I hear you, Coach."

"And Christmas?" Quinn asks. "If you celebrate, of course. Any special traditions?"

"Not really," Chloe admits, looking thoughtful. "But we're spending it with my grandmother. My mom thinks it's going to be her last Christmas with us."

Quinn's expression shifts. "I'm sorry to hear that, Chloe."

Chloe's smile is sad but present. "It's better we know, though, right?"

Quinn thinks about all the death and illness that's touched her life, and there's probably some truth to what Chloe's saying, though it doesn't make it hurt any less. "Perhaps," she softly concedes, her eyes drifting towards the main building where she sees Rachel emerging with Jesse. She almost rolls her eyes, but manages to focus her eyes on Chloe again.

Only, Chloe's gaze has also shifted elsewhere, and Quinn follows it to see her looking at a small group of girls Beca recognises as Bellas.

"We're going to hang out over the weekend," she explains. "Well, on Friday, at Stacie's house, but - "

"But what?"

"Not everyone can make it," Chloe says, and there's a deep sadness in her voice.

Quinn blinks, picking up on the hidden meaning in Chloe's tone of voice, if not her actual words. "Is she one of those who can't make it?"

Chloe drops her gaze. "I kind of organised the event so we could - and then she's - I don't - is that stupid? Crazy, to plan an entire thing, just to maybe hang out with a person, as a friend?"

Quinn can't help her smile. "I think you'll come to realise people do some pretty intense things when they like a person."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

Inexplicably, Quinn blushes, because yes, she _is_ speaking from experience. A lot of it. "I did some things I wish I could forget, in order to get her attention, yeah," she admits. "I think it just comes with the territory, really."

Chloe huffs out a breath. "This sucks."

Quinn nods. "It kind of does."

Chloe glances at her. "But it gets better?"

Quinn meets her gaze. "If you're asking me if there'll be a day when you'll stop bending over backwards to impress the girl you like, then I hope that day never actually comes."

Chloe audibly swallows. "You still do that?"

"Every day," she confesses, and then smiles that bit wider when she sees Rachel stop off at the group of Bellas Chloe was initially looking at. Of course Beca is with them, so of course Rachel would stop to chat.

It's cute how predictable her wife can be.

"I think you should learn to trust yourself more," Quinn tells Chloe. "You might surprise yourself."

Chloe believes at least that much.

* * *

Beca feels her skin prickle when she sees Rachel emerge from the school with Mr St James. They're standing way too close, and he's looking at her as if he's hanging off every word she's saying.

Which, yeah, makes sense, because that's the normal reaction to Rachel, but it makes Beca uncomfortable.

They don't - they wouldn't - because Quinn is - Quinn is -

Where? Where is she?

Her eyes look around to find the blonde woman standing with Chloe, the two of them locked in their own conversation. She has a moment to wonder what they could be talking about before CR pokes her arm and asks why she's not going to be able to go to Stacie's house for their Bellas' get together on Friday.

Beca feels her mouth spread into a smile. "I'm visiting my gran in Portland," she says, still in a bit of disbelief that David and Sheila actually agreed to let her go. She could have sworn they would have denied her, based on what's happening with Aaron, but she suspects they just want her out of the way while they deal with that storm they've created for themselves. "I haven't seen her since the summer."

CR groans. "You're like the only person who can handle Fat Amy when she's sober," she says, grinning at the blonde to whom she's referring. "Imagine her drunk."

Beca laughs. "You'll be fine."

"She'll probably kill one of us."

"My bet's on Lilly," Jessica says around her own laugh. "She wouldn't be able to scream for help."

Amy fakes a laugh at them. "Comedians," she deadpans; "comedians, all of you."

Emily wraps her in a hug that she squirms out of, the protest dying on her lips when Rachel approaches their little group, thankfully sans Mr St James.

Rachel smiles brightly at them, moving to stand beside Beca. "Hi, girls," she says, doing that awkward teacher conversation thing that's actually endearing on her. "Excited for Break?"

"Excited for sleep," CR comments, which gets a collective nod from them all.

Rachel's smile grows impossibly wider. "Well, I just wanted to wish you all a warm and safe holiday season, and I'll see you all in the new year. I hope you'll be ready to get to work." She waits while they return her sentiment, and then meets Beca's gaze for a moment.

Something passes between them, and then Beca excuses herself to accompany Rachel on her walk towards where Quinn has been left by Chloe. Quinn's eyes are unabashedly on them, burning in a way that Beca wonders would leave marks if they were capable. There's something knowing and purposeful in her gaze, and Beca wonders what she's thinking about right until the moment Quinn takes out her phone and snaps a picture of their approach.

"Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes," Quinn says when they're close enough. "Hello, my love," she says to Rachel before gently punching Beca's shoulder and saying, "What's up, Bec?"

Beca can't suppress her grin. "Did Rachel tell you I'm going to visit my grandmother?" she asks, allowing herself to get excited about this one thing that she gets to share with these very important people in her life. "I - God, I've missed her. Which is something I wouldn't normally admit out loud, but I really, really have." She sucks in a breath. "Did you know she actually met Elvis?"

* * *

Quinn's eyes widen, because that's definitely not something she was expecting Beca to say. It's actually kind of odd to see her so excited about something, and the idea that her father has agreed to give her this, for whatever reason, makes Quinn hate him a little less.

"Which Elvis?" Quinn asks, and delights in the eye-rolls she receives from both Rachel and Beca. Gosh, she loves her little brunettes.

And tiny they are.

Really quite small, both of them.

Quinn's smile spreads that bit wider. "When do you leave?" she asks.

"Tomorrow," Beca answers, her excitement fading slightly. "Things have been weird at home," she admits after a moment.

Quinn exchanges a look with Rachel, both of them waiting for Beca to elaborate if she wishes to.

Beca sighs. "Sheila's making Aaron switch teams," she finally says, as if that explains everything.

Which, frankly, it _does_.

"Oh."

Beca looks at the ground. "Aaron isn't happy, of course, and everything's been so… tense, I guess." She bites the inside of her cheek. "And, I mean, we all know _why_ they're doing this, and I just - they won't even be _honest_ about their prejudice, which is, like, so much worse."

Quinn's first instinct is to apologise, but she stops herself, because -

She _is_ sorry, though. This isn't something she wants for Beca, or for anybody. She's still sixteen, which means at least two more years with her family, and then what? Life is difficult enough, and despite how settled and happy Quinn likes to think she is, losing her family was one of the most difficult things to go through.

Heck, she's _still_ going through it.

"I almost don't want to leave him behind," Beca says, voice barely audible. "Which is… it's strange for me, because I - I wasn't really sure what to expect of coming here, and the last thing I ever wanted was to get _attached_ to anyone, but Aaron is - he's like this little adorable, sneaky parasite, and I - " she stops and sighs. It sounds painful and aged, and Quinn wishes there was something she could say and do to make it better.

It never quite occurs to her that she already is.

Beca seems to pull herself together, and then forces a smile. "What are you two still doing here?" she asks, clearly wanting the attention off her.

Quinn looks to Rachel to respond, which she does with a gentle smile. "Well, I'm meeting Mr St James for some coffee, and this one is headed out of town for a few days."

Beca's eyes widen for a beat, before a dark look seems to cross her features.

Quinn frowns. "Bec?"

Beca blinks, opens her mouth, and then closes it again.

"Beca?" Rachel questions, her hand reaching to touch Beca's forearm, maybe out of something like reassurance. "What's wrong?"

Quinn resists the urge to step closer, not wanting to crowd the teenager.

Beca looks between them, searching for something. Anything. "Why - why are you meeting Mr St James?" she asks, which draws a baffled look from both women. Why would _that_ be bothering Beca?

"Um," Rachel starts; "I'm helping him with something."

"That's all?" Beca questions. "Nothing else, right?"

Rachel glances at Quinn again, her confusion evident in her features, until something very telling seems to click. "Oh," she mouths, eyes returning to Beca's pale face. "Bec," she says softly. "Sweetheart, it's not what you're thinking."

Beca seems to startle. "What?"

"It's not the same," Rachel assures her, while Quinn continues to watch, thoroughly confused. What are they talking about without even talking about it? "I promise, it's not the same."

Beca keeps her gaze focused on the ground. "He - he started the same way," she confesses. "I - I don't remember a lot of it, but it started like this." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I just - I don't want - "

"Beca," Rachel says, looking as if she wants to draw the teenager into a hug, but is actively stopping herself from embarrassing her in their school's parking lot. "Jesse, uh, Mr St James is an old friend," she explains, and Quinn _finally_ catches on.

Wow.

Okay.

"And Quinn _knows_ I can barely stand him on a good day, anyway," Rachel adds, trying to inject some lightness into her tone. "I'm helping him with something important, and Quinn knows what it is, and Quinn would be meeting him with me if she weren't, uh, going on her little trip."

Quinn winces at the description. It _is_ a little trip, but it is extra necessary. Everything has just been building, and she needs this break. To decompress. To recharge.

Rachel says it's okay, and Quinn is choosing to believe her.

The same way Beca believes it when Rachel assures her nothing is going on that she needs to worry over. She says, "We are very much in love, okay?" She pauses, giving herself a moment to think, before she says the all important, "Nobody is leaving you."

Beca looks startled at _those_ words, but Quinn can't mistake the way her shoulders seem to lose their tension, and her features soften from their building concern. "Promise?" Beca asks, and it's just a reminder of just how young she is.

"I promise," Rachel says, voice firm.

"I do, too," Quinn adds, just because, and it gets her a smile from Beca.

The relief in her eyes is as clear as day, and Quinn is reminded just how careful they have to be.

* * *

"That was… unexpected," Rachel comments, once Beca has left them. She's still a little troubled by the subject of the conversation. Beca mentioned her father's adultery in passing, as if it was just something that happened, and Rachel hasn't really given it much thought beyond the fact Beca is _here now_.

It obviously still affects her, if she's projecting the fears of it happening again onto her and Quinn. Despite the number of cheating instances the two of them were involved in as teenagers, Rachel has never felt as if anything like that would exist in _their_ relationship.

Not even that one incident they don't speak about.

Quinn takes a step closer to her, though they don't touch. They already had their endless hug behind closed doors. "We should make sure to check in with her during the Break," she says, and Rachel _loves her_. "Often."

Rachel nods in agreement, but can't quite resist reaching out to fiddle with the lapel of Quinn's coat. "I think she's going to have to talk about it some more," she says, more to herself.

Quinn hums, her eyes tracking the movement of Rachel's fingers.

Rachel sighs, dropping her hand. "Imagine if she knew Jesse and I are actually exes."

It goes without saying that it's probably best they never mention it.

* * *

Chloe allows herself to mope about the fact she's home alone for exactly three and a half minutes, before she reaches for her phone, takes a steadying breath and bites the bullet. The worst that can happen is that Beca could say no, which, yeah, would be _terrible_ , but Chloe's learned how to measure her expectations and weather her disappointments.

 **Chloe** : _So… seeing as you're just bailing on the Bellas, I think you owe me. Come hang out at my house. Like, right now. (Insert carefully constructed blackmail threat.) Please_

She doesn't bother to reread the message, not wanting to overthink what she's asking. Of Beca. It is beyond difficult to control the beating of her heart, though. She can practically feel it thumping in her ears, and she's sure she's going to be sick.

She tries to distract herself by texting Aubrey, who has a _father thing_ , and Lucy, who she plans to meet up with soon. The two of them haven't really discussed Dr Fabray beyond the first time, and Chloe can't help her curiosity.

She's in the middle of hearing Lucy gush over her _professor_ aunt when her phone buzzes with texts from Beca. She almost drops the phone on her face from where she's holding it above her head while she lies on her back on her bed. Which, she won't tell a single soul has actually happened before.

 **Beca** : _Never should have told you blackmail works on me, huh? But, sure_ 😃

 **Beca** : _I'll even bring you Rocky Road_!

Chloe wouldn't ever admit to swooning, but she definitely does. Her mouth spreads into such a large smile that her cheeks hurt, and her eyes squeeze shut from the sheer level of excitement that floods her body.

Followed by pure, unadulterated panic.

She sits up quite suddenly and takes in the absolute mess that is her bedroom.

"Oh, shit," she mutters to herself as she flies off her bed and starts to tidy up as best she can. "Shit, shit, shit." She almost trips over one of her boots, just managing to catch herself, and then bursts out laughing.

Beca isn't even here yet, and still she's managed to lift Chloe's mood.

Chloe lifts her phone again, still a little breathless and types out a message, still cataloguing how much junk she can realistically shove under her bed.

 **Chloe** : _Cool, cool, I can't wait til you get here_!


	12. Chapter 12

**XII**

The first thing Quinn registers when she opens the door of the rented lake house is that it's very quiet. Definitely quieter than her own house, for sure. It's not even that her children are noisy - she and Rachel are actually quite lucky in that department - but their home always has some kind of sound.

Whether it's music playing, someone singing or just children babbling, there's _always_ sound. This house has none of that. Just the quiet of a gentle breeze outside, maybe a chirp of a bird here and there and the creaking of wood. It's very different to Lima, and she's not sure she likes it.

But she needs it.

It's a big house. Quinn wants the space; the emptiness. She likes being able to move around the space, pacing with her thoughts, and using the rooms to hold ideas and speak scenes into existence. She comes up with her best ideas when she's in motion.

There's also something to be said about having zero responsibilities over anyone else. There's no laundry, no homework to oversee, no school lunch to pack, no attention to give, no meals to prepare, no papers to grade, no lesson plans to put together. Just, nothing but her own body, her laptop and brain, and the groceries she picked up on her way out of town.

She makes quick work of getting her things out of the car and into the house, before she steps out onto the back deck, snaps a picture of the setting sun over the water and sends it to Rachel. They have a system for these retreats, where Quinn sends at least two texts a day, one in the morning and another in the evening, just to make sure Rachel knows she's not dead. Or so lost in her own head that she forgets to eat.

They're actually both guilty of that.

Rachel, on the other hand, sends texts a plenty. She accepts that Quinn won't be able to talk to her, but that isn't going to stop her from talking to _her_ in return, which basically means Quinn gets pictures of their kids nearly every hour, and an endless play-by-play of everything Rachel is doing as she goes about her day.

It's just what Quinn needs, and she knows she's going to worship Rachel's body until they both pass out when she gets back to Lima. Rachel assured her there's nothing to make up for, but Quinn is still going to make sure Rachel knows how much Quinn appreciates her.

Loves her with every beat of her battered heart.

Because Rachel Berry is the one person in her life who's never let her down. They've fought - dear God, they've had some terrible, horrible fights over the years - but Rachel has never disappointed her in a way the other people in her life have.

She is solid and present and _hers_.

Everything word Quinn has written could be a love letter to her wife. It's sometimes all she wants to write, so she forces all those words into entire other worlds, creating characters who can act lovesick and delirious with the amount of love in their hearts.

Quinn wouldn't have considered herself a romantic until Rachel, desperate to please her and make her smile and prove that Rachel made the right choice in picking her.

Quinn's phone buzzes in her hand, and she opens Rachel's text to reveal a picture of Emma and Mia hanging off of LeRoy's sides, both of them obviously invested in whatever their grandfather is telling them. Rachel's caption reads: _Dad's cooking tonight - save us! We miss you already_

Quinn closes her eyes, feeling an undeniable warmth spread through her body. Sometimes, she's sure she's unworthy of all this love and understanding, but she chooses to believe Rachel, because Rachel has never led her astray.

 _I love you all so fucking much_ , she writes back, and means it with her whole existence.

And then she pockets her phone, goes to find her laptop and pours herself a generous glass of wine.

She's suddenly inspired.

* * *

Beca is thankful for _Uber_ , given she really doesn't want to ask her father - or, heaven forbid, Sheila - for a lift to Chloe's house. It's really the first time she considers trying to get herself a car. She doesn't expect anything from her father, but she knows her mother left her some money, and Beca would be happy with any old piece of junk, as long as it gets her from place to place.

She'll talk to her grandmother about it when she sees her.

The ride to Chloe's house isn't as long as Beca needs to try to settle her racing heart. She's going to spend time with Chloe. Like, Chloe seriously just invited her over, unprompted, and Beca -

Wow.

Okay.

_Just breathe, will you?_

Beca glances at the _Uber_ driver, but his attention is on the road while he bops along to whatever mainstream song is playing on the radio. It's got a nice beat, but the accompanying voice irritates her, for some reason. It's high and annoying, and the production doesn't quite work.

She's busy reworking the song in her head when the car comes to a stop in front of a modest house, obviously reaching the address she provided. The neighbourhood is similar to the one her father lives in, just with a different colour palette, and Beca wonders if this is just Lima in a nutshell.

"Thank you," she tells the driver, before she gets out of the car, her sling bag over her shoulder. Her hands are shaking slightly, but she's determined to act like a normal person.

Contrary to her current behaviour, Chloe isn't her first crush. Beca has admired many girls since she's figured out her preference, both in her own life and not. A celebrity crush is definitely a thing, and even Beca isn't immune.

Chloe is just the first one Beca is seriously considering actually taking a shot at. The fear of coming out properly to her father and Sheila seems to fade to nothing when Beca is around her, and knowing she has Rachel and Quinn's support makes her feel brave.

One day, Beca will tell Chloe how she feels.

She just knows it.

Today, though, isn't that day, and she mentally steels herself for the walk towards the front door of the house. She's taken only a few steps when she notices another car pull into the driveway, and her heart stutters at the sight of a blonde girl she doesn't recognise emerging from behind the steering wheel.

Beca suddenly wants to turn around and pretend she never even showed up. She just knows this evening definitely isn't going to end up the way she -

The girl spots her and immediately waves, and Beca can't back out now. "Hey," she says, bounding up to Beca with an easy smile on her face. She's pretty in a way that looks startlingly familiar, for some reason, and there's this tilt to her mouth that could be infuriating if the mirth in her eyes wasn't so endearing. "You also here to visit Chloe?" she asks, and Beca's stomach drops right to the floor.

Oh.

"Uh," Beca stutters. "Yeah."

"Cool," the girl says. "I'm Lucy, by the way."

Beca blinks, heart rate skyrocketing. This is - she thought -

Well, she doesn't know what she thought, but she didn't expect to find another girl visiting Chloe as well. Is she only one? Will there be more than just her?

"Beca," she finally says.

"Nice to meet you, Beca," she says, sounding friendly enough, as she lead the way towards the front door of the house; the only barrier between this awkward moment and the one that's surely to come when Chloe opens the door.

Beca knows she can't quite back out now, and she tries to school her features enough not to give away her surprise and disappointment that Chloe invited more than just her over. It was stupid to think it would be just the two of them.

As if Beca needed more of a reminder that she and Chloe are destined to remain 'just friends.'

"Do you go to McKinley, as well?" Lucy tosses over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Beca answers. "You don't?"

Lucy glances back at her. "Are you, like, new or something?" she asks, her smile present.

"Uh, yeah."

"I go to Liberty," Lucy tells her. "Figured you'd know, if you weren't new. Chlo and I bond over cheerleading and stupid boys."

Beca probably - definitely - dies a little inside, because that _makes sense_. Chloe is a teenage girl, with cheerleader friends, and she likes _boys_ , because most teenage girls do.

Lucy keeps walking, oblivious to the conflict in Beca. "How do you know Chloe?" she asks.

"I don't," Beca mutters under her breath.

"What was that?"

Beca shakes her head. "Show choir," she simply explains, louder this time.

Lucy steps up onto the front steps, looking back at her. " _Really_?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrows, sounding sceptical.

Beca can't help her smile, even if she still feels uneasy. "What?" she questions. "Don't I practically _scream_ show tunes?"

Lucy's eyes crinkle in laughter. "Not quite, dear Beca," she says with a shrug. "But, what do I know?"

Beca decides she likes this Lucy person, even if she knows nothing about her. "I'm pretty sure, in the great scheme of things, we actually know _nothing_."

Lucy gives her a surprised look, her hand reaching for the doorbell once they come to a stop and compressing the button. "Oh, Beca," she says; "I think you and I are going to get on like a house on fire."

Beca lets out an amused breath. "As long as you can handle the heat," she says, and then cringes, because, what the hell was that?

She has only a moment to wonder if that was some kind of inadvertent - horrible, terrible - flirting, because the door flies open a beat later, Chloe appearing in the doorway, her smile frozen on her face.

* * *

Chloe's smile _is_ frozen, because -

Huh?

Why is Lucy here? _With_ Beca?

 _Smiling_ at Beca?

Chloe practically flew to the door at the sound of the doorbell, expecting only Beca, and she's not quite sure how it's come to be that they're _both_ here. Did Beca bring her? Wait, how would they even know each other?

The questions are still swimming in her head when Lucy crosses the threshold and pulls her into a quick but firm hug. "You have cool friends, Chlo," Lucy says in lieu of a greeting, and then moves right into the house, proving this isn't her first time here.

Chloe knows she has cool friends, definitely, but she's not sure what prompted the sentiment in this moment. If Lucy and Beca have just met, how could Lucy already know how cool Beca is?

Chloe's still too stunned to say anything, and Beca seems to sense her distress, because she doesn't make a move to enter the house. Instead, she hovers uncertainly, looking adorably unsure of herself, and Chloe feels hot with embarrassment that their proposed evening has gained a surprise member.

And, it's not as if Chloe can just ask Lucy to leave. That would be rude, and Chloe wouldn't do that to her friend, especially given the year they've both had. It's just, why is she here? It's unlike her just to show up unannounced... which is really the moment Chloe morbidly recalls that she must have sent some kind of text to Lucy, instead of Beca.

Of course she did.

She almost rolls her eyes at herself. She'll have to check her phone later, to be sure, but this is what's happening right now, and she has to stop being so awkward.

Beca seems to shake herself out of her own awkwardness, and then holds up her bag. "I brought ice cream, as promised," she declares, her eyes a little shifty.

Chloe wants to reach out to touch her; to reassure her somehow, but she's frozen in place, watching as Beca seems to struggle with what to say, as well. Lucy is an unexpected arrival, but Chloe can't realistically say she's ungrateful. Maybe they need a buffer to get through... getting to know each other better.

And Lucy is perfect for that when she calls out, "Will you two quit flirting and close the damn door? It's freezing in here."

Chloe's eyes widen in alarm, and Beca flushes at the sound of Lucy's words. "Uh."

Beca can barely look at her.

"I - I don't even know what she's doing here," she whispers to Beca, relieved to find her voice actually still works. "She probably came for the food."

Beca still doesn't move.

"Come inside," Chloe finally says, waving a hand, as if she can use the force of will to get Beca to come closer. "Please." She breathes. "It _is_ cold out there."

Beca seems surprised by the mention of the temperature, but she does step into the house, allowing Chloe to close the door behind her.

"Hi," Chloe says, hesitating a beat before she closes her arms around Beca's shoulders in a loose hug. She's aware she doesn't exactly give Beca any time to reciprocate, but she's already feeling off-kilter and overwhelmed, flushed from the mere idea that Beca is actually here.

She's right here.

"Hi," Beca says back, her cheeks also a little pink. "What's up?"

Chloe lets out an unexpected laugh. "Nothing much," she almost drawls, and then holds out her hands. "Gimme the ice cream."

Beca shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Oh, is that all I'm here for?" she asks, cocking her head to the side. "Should I just hand it over and leave?"

Even though Chloe knows she's kidding, she says, "No!" really quickly. And loudly.

Beca flinches at the volume, but continues to smile. "Lead the way, Beale," she instructs, and Chloe is both relieved and apprehensive about going to join Lucy wherever she's disappeared to in the house.

* * *

It's not as terrible as Beca initially thinks having Lucy around. She's funny and so clearly at ease in ways that make Beca appreciate her presence rather than be intimidated by it.

It also helps that Lucy mentions a boy named Nate a handful of times.

Chloe puts on a random movie after they've made popcorn, all three of them settling into the living room with their ice cream and various other snacks. Not that anyone even pays attention to what's happening on the screen. Lucy seems curious about a lot of things, talkative in a way that constantly _gives_ information, and she very rarely gets through a full story without going off on several tangents.

She even yawns once, mid-sentence, and completely loses her train of thought.

Chloe keeps glancing at Beca, making eye contact and rolling them when Lucy gets lost yet again. It feels like some kind of secret, and Beca always smiles back, even if she still feels as if there's something particular hanging in the air between them. Beca knows Chloe knows she knows more about Dr Berry's life, but Chloe also knows Beca knows there's something happening to her voice, and those are both things they're actively not talking about.

Maybe, they might have talked about them tonight, but Lucy has derailed that, and Beca isn't entirely sorry for it. They can save the serious conversations in the new year.

Lucy _does_ talk about a lot of people Beca doesn't know, though - whether they're from her own school or from Chloe's grade at McKinley, Beca wouldn't even know. Beca tries to keep up as much as possible, only half-listening until Lucy says, "So, I've been talking to Quinn quite a bit," with a flush to her cheeks that makes Beca curious.

Lucy has been talking to Quinn? Her Quinn?

Beca flushes at the thought, because, uh, Quinn isn't really _hers_ , but she kind of is, as well.

Chloe looks confused for a moment, before she lets out a quick laugh. "Oh, you mean Dr Fabray," she says. "Totally weird hearing her first name used like that."

Beca knows not to show too much interest, because how is she supposed to explain how close she is to Quinn without giving everything away? It's never really been explicitly said, Beca already knows everything to do with their family is meant to stay private.

Lucy smiles a little sadly. "She told me to call her that," she reveals, as if getting on a first-name basis isn't exactly what she wanted, which is just confusing to Beca. "She's pretty cool, you know? Like, she's been helping me with my college applications, even editing my essays and giving me advice on how to make myself seem more… college worthy."

Chloe's smile has settled on her face, and Beca wishes they would explain the context a bit more, because she's a little lost. How does Lucy know Quinn? She looks between them for a moment, before her mouth opens and she asks, "You know Dr Fabray?"

Lucy seems to startle, as if she just expected Beca to be privy to this information… or she just forgot that Beca isn't supposed to know at all. "Oh, yeah," she says, blushing slightly. "She's kind of my aunt."

Beca blinks. "'Kind of?'"

Lucy shrugs. "Uh, my family had this falling out a long time ago," she tries to explain. "For… reasons, and I didn't even meet her until this year. How trippy?"

Beca remembers Quinn mentioning a sister she hasn't spoken to in years. Is Lucy her daughter? "Totally," Beca finally says, because it totally _is_.

"Did you know she used to teach at _Columbia_?" Lucy asks, sitting up. "She's been giving me tips on getting into Princeton, but she has all these contacts at all the best universities. She's, like, a hotshot professor, Chloe. People know her name." Lucy gets this sneaky smile on her face, as if she knows something they don't.

Which may be true, but Beca knows things, too, and she's so tempted to take out her phone and text Quinn. Because, they do that now. After the whole birthday present for Rachel, Quinn doesn't feel as far away as she used to. They all know Beca's closer to Rachel - it just happened that way - but Beca thinks, one of these days, she's going to tell Quinn about Chloe.

About all sorts of things.

Even things she's not sure she could talk to Rachel about. Because Beca gets the feeling there are things a person goes to Quinn about that they don't go to Rachel - probably some illegal things, but also lost family things - and Beca wishes their children knew just how lucky they are to have them _both_.

"So, what's she doing here, then?" Chloe asks, and she sounds genuinely curious. It's not a secret to Beca that both Quinn and Rachel are probably more famous than they let on. She's been able to surmise that they both had - _have_ \- careers beyond Rachel's Broadway and Quinn's professorship. But, in a quick _Google_ search, it's really the most you get.

Beca's probably the only one here who knows why the family moved back to Lima, but that's definitely not something she's going to divulge.

"I don't even care why she's here," Lucy admits; "just that she is."

Chloe just nods, taking it in, and then Lucy switches topics again, her eyes settling on Beca. The curiosity is unmistakable, and Beca has managed to answer questions about herself sporadically, allowing Chloe and Lucy to dictate conversation.

For some reason, she thinks her luck has run out.

"Where are you from, Beca?" Lucy asks, which is easy enough to answer.

"Portland."

Lucy smiles. "I bet Lima's a change, then."

Beca shrugs, because that's an understatement, if she's ever heard one.

"How did you even end up here?" Lucy asks. "Because, I mean, it isn't exactly a destination spot."

Beca drops her gaze for a moment. "I came to live with my father," she explains, her voice losing some colour. "And his family."

Lucy winces. "Not a fan?"

"I'm pretty sure we all have a hate-hate relationship," she confesses. "Except my kid brother, I guess. He makes it weirdly bearable."

"Hah, I basically want to strangle mine every time he opens his mouth," Lucy says, somewhat offhandedly, and then freezes, as if the words have just registered with her.

Beca frowns, as she watches Lucy glance worriedly at Chloe, who's looking a little pale, herself. Wait. What's happening? What did Lucy say? Why does Chloe look like she's just seen a ghost?

Lucy clears her throat. "Uh, yeah, so," she starts, but seems to cut off whatever followup question she wants to ask, in fear of stepping into something, once again.

But Beca still doesn't know what.

Eventually, Lucy gives up trying to think of something and turns to face Chloe. "Chlo, I'm so sorry," she says. "I - I wasn't even thinking."

Chloe takes another few moments to recover from whatever's just happened. "It's okay, Luce," she finally says, regaining some colour. "Just caught me off-guard."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Beca wants to ask. She's so desperate to ask and wrap her arms around Chloe and promise everything is okay. The desire is so visceral, and it terrifies her, because that's not who Beca is, at all, and that's not whom they are to each other, either.

As it is, though, that's who Lucy and Chloe are, because Lucy is the one to put her arms around and comfort her about whatever secret lies in Lucy's words. Beca feels so viciously on the outside looking in, lost and out of the loop, and she wishes, _wishes_ , she'd just turned around when she first spotted Lucy and returned home. God, she shouldn't have come.

Beca suddenly gets to her feet, surprising them all, and two pairs of eyes snap towards her. "Uh," she says; "I'm going to get you some water." And then leaves the room, wanting to give them some privacy, sure, but also just needing not to be _witnessing_ what's happening in front of her.

If she feels a particular gaze on her, it's probably just her imagination.

* * *

When she's on form and stupidly inspired, Quinn can average around one thousand words - that make some kind of reputable sense - an hour, and _she is on form_.

The wine helps, and so does the gentle indie music playing in the background. Her mind is filled with scenes she intends to put onto paper. Sometimes, she's felt a certain pressure to produce something amazing while she's on these kinds of retreats, but she's just relieved to be writing _something_ , even if it doesn't make it to publishing.

She'll take the little victories when and where she can.

* * *

It isn't until after Beca has excused herself completely - awkwardly mentioning a stupid curfew - and left Chloe's house that Lucy looks at Chloe rather curiously and says, "Chloe, please tell me I didn't actually _interrupt_ something."

Chloe just stares at her from where she's just returned to the living room after walking Beca out. "What?"

Lucy shifts until she's sitting forward on the couch, elbows on her knees. "You and Beca," she starts.

Chloe goes still. "What about me and Beca?"

Lucy raises her hands in innocence. "Nothing," she quickly says. "It just - I don't know, it felt like there was some weird tension there, and I guess, maybe you two meant to talk it out or whatever, and then I showed up, and…" she trails off, as if her words already explain what she's trying to say.

"Oh."

"Was I imagining it?"

Chloe moves into the room and flops onto the couch beside Lucy. "No, you weren't imagining it," she reveals after a moment. "I - I know you've been curious as to why Dr Fabray and I are as close as we are."

Lucy sits silently, waiting.

Chloe steels herself. "It's because we have more in common than you would think," she confesses, and Lucy Grayson becomes only the second person to know Chloe likes girls, at all.

And the first to know she likes _Beca_ \- at least by name.

* * *

Rachel hates sleeping without Quinn.

 _Hates_ it.

When they first started dating, they were at separate colleges, living in different cities, and she couldn't exactly get too used to being _with_ Quinn. They visited each other a lot, of course. Two weekends a month was the deal, at the very least, but Quinn used to surprise her with impromptu visits all the time, claiming she missed her too much.

Quinn's schedule was the more flexible one, and she shifted her classes to early Friday mornings and late Monday afternoons, which gave them so much time.

Which was never nearly enough. No amount of time has ever been.

When Quinn moved to New York, Rachel got to experience an entirely different facet of being in a relationship. She'd never really properly lived with a significant other until Quinn, and she thinks she's probably been ruined for life because of it.

Quinn is tidy, which is a plus. She's also quiet, considerate in a way that makes Rachel love her so much. She doesn't take up too much space, and, despite her relative reluctance to initiate physical contact, she is not against cuddling. Rachel just has to nudge her side, and Quinn's arms open up for her.

So, yeah, she's used to sleeping with Quinn's warm body wrapped around her own every night, and all the nights they've been apart have been restless. She has it on good authority this is going to be one of them, as well.

With a sigh, she reaches for her phone, smiling at her Lock Screen, which is a picture of Matty hanging upside down from Quinn's hands, and Mia's head between Quinn's knees. _It's just one night_ , she tells herself. _And then another two_.

"Fuck," she mutters to herself, as she pulls up her text conversation with Quinn. She received a second picture a little over a half hour ago, of Quinn's laptop, wine and dinner, with the caption of, _Siobhan is going to have a meltdown when I tell her what I'm up to_ 😈

Rachel closes her eyes, whispers, _I miss you_ , into the air around her, and forces herself not to send the words to Quinn.

She's sure her wife already knows.

* * *

David actually takes Beca to the airport, which is surprising. She's ready early, spending the morning with Aaron and trying not to notice the way he seems to linger by her side, his actions clearly asking her not to go.

They've grown closer than she ever thought they would, and there's a certain guilt that sits heavily on her shoulders over the fact she's going to be leaving him when she suspects he needs her support the most.

Beca kind of hates having a heart.

Still, she lets him hug her tightly and she presses a kiss to the top of his head before she leaves. "Try not to kill them," Beca warns him with a gentle smile.

He grins back. "I'll try."

And then she's off.

The ride to the airport is silent, and Beca is relieved her father doesn't try to lecture her on making sure she behaves and all that other stuff a parent might say when sending his or her child off to someone else's home to represent their own.

It's either he doesn't care, or he's decided he doesn't have much to worry about. It irritates her, but she's not dwelling. As long as she gets to see her grandmother in the next few hours, she'll let him go on with his delusions.

They barely say anything to each other when they get to the airport, and Beca gets out of the car before it's even come to a stop at the drop-off area. They have only two minutes before they have to move on, so she scurries to the back to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk, not bothering to check if her father gets out as well.

He does, and it is awkward. He even does the thing and attempts a hug, which Beca dodges with a scowl.

"See you in a week," she mutters, and then makes her way into the airport without looking back, already taking her phone out of her pocket.

Her first instinct is to text Chloe, but things got so weird before she left last night, and she's not sure what to say. So, she texts Rachel instead, letting her know she's just arrived at the airport.

It's no surprise when she receives an immediate response.

 **Rachel** : _I still wish we'd been able to take you to the airport. Matty had a right tantrum about it, so thank you for that_.

Beca feels her smile spread across her face, the tension in her shoulders easing as she makes her way through the airport. It's a new airport to her, particularly on the departure side, but it's simple enough to figure out where she's supposed to go.

 _Try explaining that to David_ , she types back, bitter, and then sighs. _It's also insanely early_.

 **Rachel** : _I have a five-year-old, Beca. Sleep past five o'clock is very rare_.

 **Rachel** : _Are you looking forward to seeing your grandmother?_

Beca appreciates that Rachel doesn't linger on her comment about her father, but she knows there's a conversation coming. Possibly even with Quinn. The both of them.

 _I can't wait_ , Beca sends, truthfully.

Rachel texts her back immediately, and they exchange messages all the way through getting Beca past security and to her boarding gate. Right onto the plane, in fact, and until Beca has to switch her phone off for the take-off. She gets one last text, which makes her heart expand in her chest rather painfully.

 **Rachel** : _Have a safe flight, Bec, and please let me know when you arrive! Have fun with your gran, and pass on our regards! We're going to miss you_ 💛 _Xx_

* * *

Chloe wakes with a hangover, warm under too many blankets and an actual human being.

She didn't mean to get drunk, but she just started talking about Beca and her parents and her grandmother and _Patrick_ , and Lucy listened to every word she said, crying and laughing with her until they were both sufficiently inebriated and emotionally exhausted. She thinks she needed the sob session, but she's not sure how to accept it was with _Lucy_.

Aubrey is supposed to be her best friend, and, as frayed as their relationship seems to be, Chloe feels guilty for not being able to talk to her. And, don't even get Chloe started on Beca, which is an entire other bucket of guilt.

"Fuck," she murmurs to herself, and the human being squashing her starts to move. She gets an elbow to the ribs, which makes her groan, and then Lucy is moving even more, waking fully. When she realises where she is, she shifts back even more, and then rolls right over… and promptly falls off the bed.

Chloe shouldn't laugh, but she can't help it. It bursts out of her for just a moment, before she winces in pain. Too loud. Bad idea.

"Serves you right," Lucy grumbles from the carpet. "Don't you know it's rude to laugh at hungover people?"

"Only if you're not hungover yourself," Chloe quips, rolling over to peek over the edge of the bed. "You okay?"

"I think I broke a hip."

Chloe rolls her eyes, which is a terrible idea. She lets out another groan, and then flops onto her back. "I'm never drinking again," she decides, and Lucy laughs from where she's remained sprawled out on the carpet.

"Isn't Bumper's party on Saturday?" Lucy asks.

"Fuck."

Lucy sounds way too amused when she says, "And don't you have some show choir thing tomorrow?"

Chloe groans, loud and exhausted, and says, "Fuck," again, doing her best to ignore how much Lucy seems to be enjoying this.

* * *

Grandma Lou feeds Beca everything in sight, claiming she's getting too skinny.

"Aren't they feeding you over there?" she asks, moving around the little kitchenette. She's always been a busy-body, unable to sit still, and Beca is a little dizzy just watching her. Possibly even a little delirious.

God, she's missed her so, so much.

"Tell me everything," Grandma Lous says. "How is school? Are you enjoying your classes? Making friends? How's that worthless father of yours? I want to know _everything_."

Beca rolls her eyes, because her grandmother acts as if she hasn't been sending her some kind of updates this entire time. Unsurprisingly, Beca isn't really in a talkative mood, but Grandma Lou definitely is - isn't she always? - so Beca just leans back and smiles.

"Why don't you start?" Beca asks, and Grandma Lou is all too willing to oblige.

* * *

"Ma?"

Rachel looks up from where she's folding laundry, huffing a little, because this is usually Quinn's job. Rachel hates laundry, and Quinn hates the dishes. It's worked out quite well for them, considering. "Emma?" Rachel drawls, making them both smile. "What's up?"

"Matty's sleeping," Emma informs her. "And Mia is doing that thing again."

Rachel chuckles. "The reading thing?"

"She's _five_ , Ma."

Rachel is constantly amazed at how all the best parts of Quinn have managed to work their way into their children.

"Can I go practice outside?" Emma asks. "Mom will know if I haven't."

Rachel almost rolls her eyes, because surely her kid can go one day without kicking a ball around their backyard. Seriously.

"Sure, Kiddo," Rachel says, anyway. "Make sure you wrap up properly, okay? It's cold out there."

Emma beams at her. "Thank you," she squeals, and then bolts from the laundry room.

Rachel watches her go, and then gets an idea. She grins to herself as she finishes up, suddenly not bothered with the chore, and then goes to find her phone to place a very important call.

Or two.

* * *

Quinn receives a text from Rachel in the early afternoon, simply saying, _I may have done something_ , and Quinn panics for all of fourteen seconds before she receives another text, which is just a picture.

Of Steph, Emma and Jesse kicking a ball around their backyard.

Then a second picture, of Tessa kicking back in a deckchair on their back porch, Matty in her lap.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Quinn is very curious to know how that's going, but she won't ask. She knows Rachel will have loads of stories for her when she gets back, and that's fine with her.

 **Rachel** : _Operation Ferret is underway. Wish us luck_ ✊

* * *

The truth is Rachel isn't quite sure how to approach this kind of conversation with Tessa. It's not even that she wants to _say_ anything specific; she just wants to understand. Is what Jesse did so irreparably bad? What did he even do?

Thankfully, Tessa seems to sense her intentions, and very casually says, "We were dating in secret," while the two of them watch Jesse get absolutely schooled by a nine and ten-year-old. "He was so much older," she explains, not even looking at Rachel. "And… white."

Rachel just presses her lips together, because even she has some experience with racial prejudice. Particularly _within_ her own family. Having a mixed couple as parents - let alone homosexual ones - has given her a lot of insight into internal and external prejudice. Even so, she won't even begin to compare her own experience to Tessa's.

"Things were fine," Tessa says. "I explained the situation to him; why we couldn't be public, or whatever, and why I just couldn't introduce him to my family while we were still… not fully committed. It was meant to be casual, anyway, but - " she stops, seeming lost for a moment.

"You fell in love," Rachel guesses.

Tessa laughs weakly. "He's honestly an idiot," she says, shaking her head. "I don't know if I really stood a chance."

For a moment, Rachel wonders if Jesse has told Tessa that the two of them once dated - a long, long time ago. It's unimportant now, but at least Rachel knows how much of an idiot he can be. He's both easy and so difficult to love, ambitious beyond a fault, unfairly talented and somewhat unattractively arrogant.

Rachel, at least, seems to have grown out of some of those traits.

"But, he got impatient," Tessa says, sounding grim. "I couldn't - I don't think it's the same as 'coming out' for your sexuality, but it felt somewhat similar, when you look at my family. Proud and African American, wary of strangers. White straight men haven't been historically kind to us, particularly in Lima, Ohio, and I - I just needed some time."

Rachel sighs, because _of course_ Jesse wouldn't have given her that.

"He thought it was romantic, this grand big gesture, and, under normal circumstances, it would have been, but - " she stops again. "It went terribly wrong. So terribly wrong; I barely even want to think about it."

Rachel almost tells her she doesn't have to keep talking about it if she doesn't want to, but Tessa keeps talking, threading her fingers through Matty's soft hair.

"It all happened within two weeks," she says quietly. "Jesse and I had this massive fight about… well, it was about a lot of things, I suppose. One of those fights that starts out completely innocuous and then just escalates to something ugly. Have you had one of those?"

"Oh, definitely," Rachel says, because she really, really has - and not even exclusively with just Quinn.

"I was probably all kinds of hormonal, but I didn't know I was pregnant at the time," Tessa continues. "It was just… a lot, and I asked him for some space. But then my father died unexpectedly, and he showed up at my house on the day of the funeral with an entire marching band ready to serenade me, and - like, what the fuck?"

Rachel cringes internally, because that sounds like a Jesse thing to do, but the timing was just wrong, on so many levels.

"I didn't handle it well," Tessa confesses. "Emotionally, I just wasn't in the right headspace to deal with him, but it wasn't even the fact he showed up, really. I've given it a lot of thought since then, and I know my reaction was to do with the shock of everything, but my response was because he didn't _listen_ to me when I asked for time and space." She sighs. "He's been very respectful of it since."

Rachel glances at Jesse, who is doubled over laughing at something that probably isn't even that funny. He looks young and unburdened, and Rachel wonders how it is all of them ended up here.

"Do you think you could ever forgive him?" Rachel asks, and she's more curious than anything. Because Tessa's response doesn't come across as emotional or vindictive; just rational and protective. Rachel probably would have done the same thing.

"I already have," Tessa says, smiling sadly. "A long time ago, in fact."

"Because of Steph?"

" _In spite_ of Steph," Tessa says. "I have a lot of medical professionals as friends, and I know I've had to forgive him for myself, and not for anyone else. It wouldn't be right to put that kind of pressure on my daughter, whether she knows about it or not."

Rachel absently thinks of Quinn, Judy and their own children, and wonders if Judy's getting to know her grandchildren would put some kind of burden on them to maintain some kind of peace.

"I'm used to men failing me," Tessa says. "It wasn't really surprising, but it would have been nice if Jesse was different."

Rachel winces.

"I… guess I've been cautious with Steph," she admits. "He's been wonderful when it comes to her, truly. After he got over himself and realised he was going to have to step up. My - my family still don't approve, and I - they _need_ me now, you know? After my dad, it was just - it's really eye-opening losing the pillar and main breadwinner of a family.

"I was still finishing school, and I'm still establishing myself in the field, and I so badly want to be this fierce, independent woman, so I don't - " _end up like my mother_ , goes unsaid. "But, that's my problem. Not Steph's, and definitely not Jesse's. I've always got the feeling he's wanted _more_ , but we're both too wary to rock the boat, as it were. Is it something he's talked to you about? Is that why we're all here?"

Rachel can't answer either way, because it is, but it also isn't. "Is that something you would _want_?" she asks instead. "Something you'd accept? Letting Jesse spend more time with her?"

Tessa doesn't immediately respond. "I thought, you know, if I was strict about it, then I wouldn't have to deal with another incident like… before. If I remained as in control as possible, I wouldn't be risking…" she trails off. "But, of course, I want Steph to spend as much time with him as possible. I've lost my own father, and I - "

Rachel nods, visibly thinking it all over. "I get it," she says, because she does. "Steph _is_ the priority, and she's always going to be."

"It's not even that we have some kind of custody arrangement," Tessa explains. "There's no piece of paper in place. My family would probably never let him see her, if they had their way, but I won't do that to either of them. Especially when Jesse is always so willing and present and contributing. I know he wants to do _more_ , give more, be more involved, but he's not going to be the one to bring it up, and I - " she stops, sighs. "Is it really _my_ fault that he's censored himself so much?"

Rachel shakes her head. "He's scared of pushing, definitely, because he lost you the last time he did, so he's always going to be cautious," she says. "Would you be okay if he did do more, when it comes to Steph?"

Tessa doesn't answer, and Rachel doesn't push.

"Maybe that's a conversation you could have," Rachel offers. "I assume your boundaries have changed since Steph was younger, so maybe letting both you and Jesse know just where you stand, today and in this moment, could help everyone."

"Especially Steph," Tessa says to herself.

Rachel stares at her hands. "I don't want you to feel as if we're pushing you into anything," she says. "I've been accused of doing that before, even with Quinn, and I - I want you to be _ready."_

"What's all this, then?" Tessa asks, curious.

"An opportunity," Rachel informs her. "If you want it."

Tessa regards her for a moment, eyes searching for something she may or may not find. Her eyes eventually drift back to their daughters and Jesse, the three of them currently in some kind of dog pile on the grass. Rachel strongly believes the topic is over, based on how long it takes for Tessa to say anything else.

"Okay," Tessa finally says; "just, maybe, not today."

* * *

Stacie hands her a glass of some clear liquid as soon as Chloe steps through the door of her house.

An actual _glass_.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Stacie says, smiling that knowing smile that makes Chloe's skin prickle with unease. "Everyone should be in the den, unless they've gone exploring my house like the rude little shits they are."

Chloe smiles, trying to settle her sudden nerves. God. What is wrong with her? Beca isn't even _here_. "You love them," she accuses lightly.

Stacie makes a non-committal sound, and just waves her further inside. "Coats over there," she says. "Shoes over here. My mom would blow a gasket, otherwise." She pauses. "She still might, actually, because I kind of didn't run this by her, so..."

"Stacie!"

The girl shrugs. "Happy Christmas, everybody," she deadpans.

Chloe just laughs, suddenly determined to enjoy herself. Beca isn't the only one who couldn't make it to this little get-together, but they're still going through with it. It _will_ be a good bonding session, and Chloe does love these crazy girls, in all their little ways. Beca was right when she mentioned it was more than just the music for Chloe, and she's going to need these girls when -

She's just going to need them.

Jessica pops out from somewhere, squeals at the sight of Chloe, and then drags her further into the house with an arm around her shoulders. "We're getting wasted," she declares, and Chloe doesn't dream of contradicting her.

She's barely recovered from her hangover with Lucy, but she's not willing to face the Inquisition if she decides to mention she's going to be taking it easy on the alcohol. Better to do it silently and hope nobody is paying enough attention to notice. It'll be good practice for the following day. She just knows Bumper's party is going to be _wild_.

Everyone is in the den, like Stacie said, and Chloe gives them all a warm greeting before she drops onto the carpet beside Aubrey. There's still a weird tension lingering between them, but Chloe doesn't know _how_ to cross whatever bridge she needs to, in order to make everything okay again. So many things are happening - too many secrets locked within her - and she's going to need her best friend.

They're usually better at this whole talking to each other thing.

Still, Aubrey allows Chloe to lean against her, fondly rolling her eyes at the display. Chloe just grins in response and sips at her drink before spitting right back into the cup, which makes the other girls erupt in uncontrollable laughter.

"What the hell is that?" she almost shrieks.

CR is practically rolling on the floor; she's laughing so hard. "Oh, my God," she wheezes. "That was priceless!"

Chloe sets her glass on the coffee table, a grimace still on her face. "Shit, is that vinegar?" she questions, plucking Aubrey's glass right out of her hands and taking a tentative sip to chase away the acidic taste in her mouth.

"Please tell me someone got that on camera," CR says.

"Oh, definitely," Amy says, locking her phone and grinning devilishly. "I've already sent it to the group."

The smile disappears from Chloe's face, because - wait, no, Beca's going to see it. She can't see her looking so -

Aubrey wraps her arm around Chloe's shoulders. "I told them it wouldn't be funny," she says, clearly also amused.

"Then why are you laughing?" Chloe asks with a pout.

Aubrey just hums. "It's funny," she answers, because it kind of is.

Chloe just huffs a breath, and then rests her head on Aubrey's shoulder, allowing herself to relax for the first time.

They're okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

Chloe glares when Ashley hands her another glass, looking far too innocent. "This better not be vinegar," she says, trying to sound stern.

"It's not vinegar," she assures her.

"It better be alcohol," Chloe adds a beat later. "I'm going to need all I can get to put up with you aca-bitches."

"You love us," Stacie accuses, from where she's sprawled out on a couch.

_Huh._

_Yeah, she kind of does_.

Chloe just laughs to herself, absently rolling her eyes at their antics, before she takes out her phone… to check if Beca has seen the video Amy's sent. She needs to do some damage control before Beca gets a chance, and send some kind of disclaimer.

At least this isn't the first text she's sent since the disaster that was their last meeting. She's already touched on the awkwardness that was their 'hangout' with Lucy - though, she's not quite ready to talk about Patrick to someone who didn't know him yet - and Chloe is relieved not to have done irreparable damage to whatever rela- uh, _friendship_ they're trying to build.

Beca's sent her pictures of Portland in response, and of her grandmother's cooking, and Chloe can't deny that there seems to be a different kind of freedom in Beca's speech now that she's out of Lima.

Chloe can't tell if it's a good or bad thing.

* * *

"Who is she?"

Beca startles from where she's been staring at her phone's screen, rereading the text exchange she's just had with Chloe. If she wasn't sure they _weren't_ , she'd think they were actually flirting.

Girls are confusing.

Beca clears her throat, looking at her grandmother with curious eyes. "Who's who?"

"The girl who's got you smiling like that."

Beca doesn't even realise she's still smiling until Grandma Lou points it out, and she tries to get herself to stop, which is an unsuccessful endeavour. She shifts in her seat, turning her body to face Grandma Lou properly. "Her name is Chloe," Beca reveals, feeling a certain thrill shoot through her body at admitting the words out loud. "I - yeah, I really like her."

Grandma Lou's mouth spreads into a wide, knowing smile. "We've never really talked about this, have we?" she says.

Beca shrugs. "There wasn't much to talk about, before."

"You know, I wasn't sure what to make of it when your mother told me," she says, her voice softer than it's been. "We're part of the old generation, apparently, but your mother never knew everything her old hag got up to. Back in the day, I had myself a lady friend, as well."

Beca's eyes widen. "What about Grandad?"

"It was before his time," she dismisses with a laugh. "Even if it wasn't all that long ago, there was nothing we could have realistically done about it, anyway." She smiles a little sadly. "Don't get me wrong, Beca, darling, I loved your grandfather very much, but - " she stops, sighs. "I suppose she'll always be the one who got away."

Beca doesn't even know how to process this information. "Seriously?"

"You seem surprised," Grandma Lou points out. "I was once a young woman, too."

That, honestly, doesn't make Beca feel better, for any number of reasons. "I don't - "

"I'm not helping, am I?"

"You didn't end up with her," Beca says, shifting in her seat.

"It was a different time, Sweetheart," she returns, reaching her hand out to touch Beca's shoulder. It's a light touch, a gentle squeeze, and Beca appreciates that she knows that _touch_ is something with which Beca isn't entirely comfortable.

One would think she hadn't been hugged enough as a child, but her mother was affectionate to the point of smothering, and, while Beca pretended she hated it, she _loved_ it. She _misses_ it every day, and the closest she's got to anything like a bone-crushing hug is from her grandmother.

And Rachel.

"Would you like to tell me about her?" Grandma Lou asks her.

Beca's never really been allowed to gush about Chloe the way she desperately wants to. She's touched on it, briefly, with Rachel, but she's never really told anyone _why_ she likes Chloe.

"And, you'd be okay with that?" Beca asks.

"Only if you are, Little Bug."

Beca rolls her eyes at the nickname; something Grandma Lou has called her since she can remember. Grandma Lou claims it's because she's so small, but Beca suspects it's something she just doesn't want to let go of, now that she's lost her only daughter.

Lou Blake has suffered losses like no other. A long lost love, apparently, and a husband to a heart attack, a son to war, and a daughter to cancer. It's never something to wish on anyone, even your worst enemies. All she has left is a widowed daughter-in-law on a military base in Japan, and Beca. She has her friends, of course, all of them within reach in the old-age home.

Though, _I'm not that old, Toni._

Beca still grins whenever she remembers her mother and grandmother discussing the placement. It's not a _home_ , really. It's a community. The men and women here are old, sure, but they're fully self-reliant, every one of them living in something resembling a small apartment in the complex, each with a little kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom.

Beca's been sleeping on the couch. It's where she spent the first few days after her mother's death, blanketed in love from Grandma Lou and all her crazy friends, eating all the food they shoved in her face without protest, her heart broken beyond compare.

"Gran?" Beca starts, bypassing this topic, because, as much as she _wants_ to talk to Chloe, she doesn't think she's actually ready. "Can I rather tell you about Quinn and Rachel?"

Grandma Lou gives her an understanding look, and then nods. "You can tell me anything you want, Beca," she assures her. "Now, this Quinn and Rachel, these are the women looking out for you, right?"

Beca blushes as she nods. "Yeah," she says; "you could say that."

* * *

It's inevitable that they end up talking about boys, and Chloe forces herself not to stiffen when Jessica first brings it up about an hour into their very chilled evening. They're all a little tipsy, and Chloe spares a thought to the obvious underage drinking, but she reasons it's safest here, in a controlled setting.

"There's this boy in my Chem. class," Jessica starts off, smiling dreamily. "I can't _even_ with how hot he is, wow. Who needs a Bunsen burner?"

It sparks something, and Ashley chimes in with her new crush, and then Flo goes off on a tangent about an unsuspecting boy who Chloe is forty percent sure Flo is actually stalking. Denice mentions that she may or not be seeing an _older_ boy, which gets excited questions from some of the girls, and Aubrey very carefully says, "I am way too focused on my future to worry about insignificant boys right now," in a way that makes them all roll their eyes.

CR simply says, "Boys are stupid," and Stacie is the one - the _one_ \- to mention she's got her eyes set on a pair of twins - a boy and a girl - which is just scandalous.

Eventually, Jessica looks at Chloe and asks, "What ever happened to Tom?"

Chloe's smile, thankfully, doesn't fade, even if the question catches a little off guard. She hasn't thought about Tom in so long, and she feels nothing when his name comes up.

So she shrugs, says, "I guess we'll see tomorrow," and it seems like enough.

She definitely doesn't miss the curious look CR sends her way, or the way Stacie and Aubrey exchange a look of their own.

She wishes Beca were here.

Gosh, she'd even take Emily's level of distraction at this point.

* * *

Quinn makes sure to buy donut holes aplenty on her way home. She also gets various types of actual donuts for the children: sprinkles for Emma and honey-glazed for Mia. Matty just eats whatever they put in front of him, though he's partial to chocolate-dipped.

Definitely Rachel's kid.

She's earlier than expected, managing to get herself packed up and out of the house straight after her morning coffee. She's been able to get so many words written, and she's feeling lighter for it. She's spent a lot of time meditating (while, admittedly, a little tipsy on wine), but she feels more settled than she did before her brief escape from Lima.

She misses her family, and she has every attention of showering them in all the love she's built up in the last few days she's spent without them. It's basically threatening to explode right out of her.

Which is maybe why she sees but doesn't quite register the car parked behind Rachel's in the driveway when she finally pulls in. It's familiar, enough that it doesn't stand out to her. She leaves her bags for later, grabs her edible goodies, and then storms the Castle.

Her mouth opens to say, _Honey, I'm home_ , but the words get stuck in her throat at what she walks into.

Because, then, she sees Santana, casually sprawled across their couch, smirk in place and eyes shining in the light. "Miss me?" she asks, arms spread, and Quinn thinks, _yeah, I really have_.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN** : There is a scene in here that is an homage to one of my other favourite ships. Here's hoping everyone is safe and well, wherever you are in the world 💛

* * *

**XIII**

Quinn says, "I thought you weren't getting in until tomorrow," with all the childish glee of someone who hasn't seen her best friend in _months_ , and she isn't even ashamed of it. She keeps wanting to reach out and pinch Santana's arm just to make sure she's really here.

Santana rolls her eyes, because of course she does. "Britt wanted to surprise you," she says, tilting her head back and looking up into the night sky. "Turns out _we_ were the ones surprised, when you weren't even here."

Quinn feels her smile fade slightly, but her good mood remains. "Yeah," she breathes. "I - I went on a retreat."

Santana's features soften, her eyes doing that thing they do when she's trying - and probably failing - to figure out Quinn. Lesser people have tried, but the Latina is determined. Even after all these years.

"I'm okay," Quinn says, knowing Santana's mind is probably going all sorts of places. "I just - I needed a moment, you know? It's - it's been a lot."

"Of change?"

Quinn doesn't comment on that, because the last thing she actually wants to do is talk about her own life and all its ups and downs. Santana is here - with Brittany and their two sons - but she's _here_ , and Quinn allows the familiarity of her presence to soothe her further. Something to hold onto. Someone who _knows_ her and all her demons. Someone who's never judged her for them.

Someone who understands what it's like to be rejected by family.

"The boys have grown so much since we last saw them," is what Quinn eventually says, shifting topics. "I swear Jay is almost as tall as you are."

Santana shoots a glare at her. "Har, har," she mutters, though she's smiling. "What a comedian."

"My children find me funny."

"Your children don't know any better," she shoots right back. " _I'm_ not around."

The words are sobering as Santana says them, because the truth is they _are_ apart. Before, when Quinn and Rachel were still in New York, Brittany and Santana were just a train ride away, living their authentic lives in Boston and within visiting distance. Now, they're more than ten hours away, and it's really the longest they've all gone without seeing each other since they all graduated from college.

"Britt's missed you guys," Santana says after a moment, and they both know she's not referring to only Brittany. Even after all these years, the two of them still haven't been able to admit in words to missing each other. Both Rachel and Brittany find it hilarious, but Quinn and Santana are just that stubborn, insisting on pretending not to need each other when they so obviously do.

"We don't even want to go to New York anymore," Santana continues. "Cesc says it's just not the same, and you know how he hates staying in hotels."

"What a little prince," Quinn comments with a smile.

"I keep telling Britt she spoils him too much," Santana says. "We need them to grow up tough. The world isn't kind. Not to kids from a mixed home, and especially not to kids with two mothers." These have always been worries she and Santana share; things they continually try to hide from their respective wives.

With little success.

"Rach mentioned you've been having some trouble with homophobes," Santana says after a moment. "And that you're having far too much fun scandalising unsuspecting middle-aged women."

Quinn grins at her over her glass of wine. "Tell me you wouldn't want to see a bunch of soccer moms lose their shit over some firm muscle and actual sex appeal," she points out, relaxing further into her chair.

"It is a beautiful, beautiful thing," Santana agrees; "but you're in Lima fucking Ohio, Fabray."

Quinn frowns at her. "So?"

Santana laughs, and then shakes her head. "Rach also might have mentioned you have another kid."

Just the thought of Beca brings a smile to her face, and she takes the opportunity to gush about a kid who's theirs and also not.

Somehow knowing Santana will just _get it_.

* * *

Rachel watches Brittany watch both their wives through the kitchen window, a steady smile on her face. They've had moments like these in the past; the two of them trying to figure out what's going through Quinn and Santana's heads - and failing.

As much as she appreciates the role Maria plays in her life, she's missed having Brittany and Santana around. They used to make it a priority to visit one another at least every two months, each family taking respective trips to the other's city.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Brittany asks, sipping at her own wine.

Rachel glances at Quinn, studying her face for a moment, and then answers, "Beca."

Brittany looks at her, a little perplexed. "How could you possibly know that?"

"The look on her face," Rachel tells her. "It's the look she gets when she's talking about Beca." It's a little like wonder, mixed with concern, caution and something like excitement.

Brittany hums softly, and then says, "Cute." Which, yeah, it really, really is. "Do we get to meet her?" Brittany asks.

Rachel gives it some thought. "Maybe," she says. "She should be back in Lima before you lot leave, so there's always a chance we could organise something."

"And you guys would be okay with that?"

Rachel glances back out at Quinn, who is playfully punching Santana's arm. She always looks so much younger when she's around the Latina. As if she's shed all the weight and responsibility of being _Quinn Berry-Fabray_ , and just gets to be this woman who gets to talk shit with her best friend.

Rachel has felt jealous of their relationship in the past. If she's being honest, sometimes she still does. Quinn has never been that way with her. Playful, sure. At ease, sometimes. But never so relaxed and unburdened.

It's sobering, the realisation that Quinn has labelled herself their protector; their pillar, who doesn't allow herself to be the care-free person she can be when she's with them. She shoulders the responsibility of being a wife and mother and professional and perceived head of this family, and this is why Rachel understands Quinn's need for retreats. It's just -

Brittany bumps Rachel arm, getting her attention. "It's a yes or no answer," she says with a smile.

"Hmm?"

"Meeting Beca," Brittany reminds her. "Where did you go?"

Rachel shakes her head of her wandering thoughts. "I just - " she starts and stops, and then indicates to the scene happening outside the window with a wave of her hand. "Is Santana ever like that with you?" she asks.

Brittany doesn't even turn to look before she answers, "No."

"Oh?" she sounds, and her voice sounds small, even to her own ears.

"Rachel, you two have been married fourteen years," Brittany points out. "You know it's nothing to do with you, or with me. Quinn loves you."

"I know that," Rachel mutters, because that's never been in question. Even during those few weeks in their lives when their marriage was questioned by everyone but themselves; Rachel has never questioned Quinn's love. Quinn has never given her a reason to.

She's, maybe, just a little antsy because of the retreat. It happens sometimes, as much as she's wrapped her head around the necessity. Uncertainty creeps up on her at the worst of times; doubt creeping into her bones about the state of her marriage and how _happy_ she actually makes her wife.

"That's just how they are," Brittany says, sounding fond. "It's just them, and I know you wouldn't want them to be any other way." She shifts to stand closer to Rachel. "They're our protectors, whether we want them to be or not. But, out there, with each other, they're each other's as well, and that is a beautiful thing." She smiles softly. "At least, I like to think it is."

And the thing is that Rachel knows all this already. She's aware and caught up on how all their relationships intersect, but it doesn't mean she doesn't need the reminder from time to time.

Brittany leans against her, more tactile than even Rachel is. "You know you can just talk to Quinn about this, right?" she points out.

"I know," she huffs, because she does know. "Just, with everything already going on, it seems pointless to worry about such trivial things." She thinks of her fathers, and she thinks of her changed career. She misses New York, which isn't something she's really been able to say out loud, because she's felt the pressure of believing they made all the right choices in coming here, and wearing it proudly for everyone to see.

She misses their old lives, but she's accepted the necessity of living in Lima. Of allowing their children to grow up with two present parents and their grandparents, and so leading the kind of normal life part-time famous people can offer.

"It's not trivial," Brittany assures her. "Everything you're feeling is valid."

Rachel almost rolls her eyes, because Brittany is more of a walking bumper sticker than Rachel is. She wishes she managed to hold onto her unwavering hope and optimism with age, but it's faded somewhat, and she doesn't know what's to blame.

 _Life_ , maybe.

She thought pushing a baby out of her body would allow things to make sense once more, but the pregnancy was difficult and the birth equally so. The aftermath forced questions of her she wasn't prepared for, and she just can't realistically say she's fully recovered from having her body and life altered.

At the time, Quinn teased her about the perils of being outnumbered. She jokes still, but there's always an undercurrent of concern in her tone and eyes, because Rachel went through the kind of postpartum depression everyone was convinced Quinn would end up going through.

Rachel wouldn't call what she goes through now the same, because her therapist shifted her diagnosis, but it's all just as paralysing.

One of the main differences between these adult versions of themselves is that Quinn recognises when her demons are rearing their ugly heads, and actively works to defy them, even removing herself from the stressors. Rachel, not so much, which is why moments like these happen. Her switch is quick, just a flip, and her easy demeanour gives way to -

Quinn suddenly looks up, eyes seeking Rachel's through the kitchen window, almost as if she can sense the direction of her thoughts. Her face pinches in worry, and Rachel doesn't have the energy to reassure her.

Brittany must notice something is suddenly and worryingly amiss, because she says, "I'll go check on the kids," quiet enough not to startle Rachel. "I think San promised them the gory details of her latest surgery."

And then she's gone, disappearing from the kitchen, just in time for Quinn to enter in her stead and say, "Baby, you look like you need some donut holes." It doesn't sound at all sexual now, but the code allows Rachel to acknowledge Quinn means to tell her she'll give her everything she needs. She'll give her the world. "What's going on?"

Rachel surprises them both when she asks, "Did you even want to have a third child?"

Quinn freezes, clearly caught off guard by the question. It's not even what Rachel wanted to say, but the words are out, and Rachel feels as if this is a conversation they should have had a long time ago. It's almost something they've put off; something they wouldn't necessarily have got to, if not forced to.

"Did you?" Rachel asks again, and she's suddenly sure of the answer.

"I love Matty," Quinn says.

"That isn't what I asked, Quinn."

Quinn looks caught, her brow furrowed in that way that shows Rachel she doesn't know where any of this is coming from; has no clue what's prompted this kind of discussion.

"Answer the question," Rachel says. "You - you joke about it, I know, but you never wanted a third child, did you?"

Quinn clenches her jaw, and Rachel recognises the sight of Quinn hating herself. "No, I didn't," she eventually says. "I didn't want to carry another one."

"But, I carried Matty," Rachel points out.

"It's what you wanted."

"But not you?"

"I listened to the doctors when they said it would be a difficult pregnancy for you, Rachel," she says. "I was worried before we started trying, during the entire nine months, and then every second since the C-Section."

"But you agreed," Rachel says, frowning slightly. "You keep agreeing to everything. We're in Lima right now because you agreed. You gave up your New York life for us. You had prospects and we could have gone to Cambridge for your new job. But now you're here, and you're going to be coaching kids' soccer, which you also don't really want to do, and I - "

"Rachel," Quinn says, stepping towards her and silencing her with the expression on her face. "Baby, what is happening right now?"

"You don't look at me the way you look at Santana." She practically blurts the words out, and Quinn's eyes widen. Her mouth opens, and then closes, but she doesn't seem to be able to say anything.

Not that Rachel blames her.

Quinn blinks several times. "I'm confused," she admits. "I - of course I don't look at you the way I look at Santana." She scrunches up her face in something like disgust. "Gross. She's my best friend."

"You've slept with her, Quinn," Rachel says.

Quinn rolls her eyes, grasping at straws. "You know I haven't. She just says that to rile you up, because you get cute when you're jealous and trying not to show it." She shakes her head. "Granted, I'm not sure that's actually what's happening right now. You don't look jealous. You look - "

"Do we even make you happy?"

Quinn stares at her as if she's lost her mind, and, frankly, she's starting to feel it. "Honestly, I don't even know what's happening right now," she says. "I don't know what words you need me to say to make this better."

"I want you to tell me the truth."

Quinn pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes closing. "Fine," she eventually says. "Yes. Yes, I didn't want a third child. Not at first. I don't like the idea of being stretched too thin. We were handling our two quite well, even with how much you were working, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to offer my love the same way you do, okay? I come from a two-child home, and, as terrible as it was, it made the most sense to me. Three is uncharted territory. All our other friends had two, but you wanted to have a baby. You wanted the experience of being pregnant and connected to a child that way, and I would never deny you something like that. We weren't getting any younger, and you asked, and I worried every single day, but I love you, Rachel. I love you so much, and of course you make me happy." She takes a breath. "Is this about the retreat?"

Rachel immediately shakes her head, but neither of them believes it.

Quinn steps closer to her, tempted to reach out. "You said it was okay," she whispers, and Rachel hates - _hates_ \- that this hurts her. "You said - "

"It was," Rachel assures her. "Of course, it was."

"Then what is this?" Quinn asks. "What is happening?"

"I don't know," Rachel whispers back. "Can you just - " she starts, making a gesture with her hands. "Just - "

Quinn reads it for what it is, and immediately wraps Rachel in her arms, holding her close and tucking Rachel's body into her own. Rachel grips her sweater tightly in both fists, and tries not to think too hard.

Quinn lets them breathe until they're matching, and then she says, "You are my wife," just quietly enough that Rachel can just about hear her. "I have a responsibility to you and our children that I don't have with anyone else. It isn't something I can switch off, and I would never want to." Her breath catches. "When I first figured out how I felt about girls, I never imagined anything like this. Santana understands that. She understands being without parts of her family based on who she chooses to love and questioning whether it's all worth it. She understands how improbable all of this was and sometimes still is. I never imagined my life would work out this way; that I would get to be this person, who has a family and a job and security and something like peace. That I could get to be happy.

"Do you - do you know how tightly I hold onto all of this? You are my wife, and I would do anything for you. I - would rather die than be without you; than see you unhappy or hurt or lost." She holds her tighter. "Santana understands that."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "And I don't?"

"No," Quinn tells her, always so truthful. "And I would never want you to." She audibly swallows. "I have worked very hard to make sure you never have to. It's not something I want for you, or for any of our children. Why is that even something you would want to know?"

"So, I can know you."

"You do know me," Quinn tells her. "Baby, you're the only one who truly does."

"I don't know what's happening to me," Rachel admits.

Quinn hums. "Maybe we should schedule a session with Dr Franco," she suggests. "The holidays are always stressful, and we have a lot going on. We probably both need it."

"Lima was supposed to be easier."

Quinn almost laughs, but Rachel's glad she doesn't. "We're Rachel and Quinn," she says instead; "when has _anything_ been easy?"

Rachel doesn't actually want to agree, but Quinn definitely has a point there.

* * *

It's almost something like deja vu when Chloe arrives at Bumper's house. The party is already in full swing, music pumping and bodies way too uncomfortably close to one another. The air is stuffy despite how cold it is outside, and Chloe silently curses the idea that she has to 'make an appearance.'

But, she walks into the house and someone immediately hands her a red cup full of some kind of liquid that she just _knows_ she's not going to drink, under any circumstances.

It could be something more sinister than vinegar, and Chloe isn't stupid.

A bit of a coward, sure, but she's somewhat levelheaded when it comes to certain things. Sometimes. Most of the time. She knows this evening isn't something she's particularly going to enjoy, because of reasons.

Pretending to be interested in boys - which, okay, she can't say she's really not - is exhausting. There are things expected of her, she knows, and she wishes there was a way to turn off all of that. Just for a little while.

She'd like just to _be_. And maybe that's her first mistake of the night.

Chloe makes her way to the kitchen, determined to get her own drink. She knows Aubrey is already here somewhere, and that's her next plan of attack once she's managed to secure something that definitely won't be vinegar or anything else nefarious.

She picks vodka, topped with some cranberry juice, and then goes to find her friends. She feels a little out-of-body, like she's on something like autopilot. As if she's not really here, in the room, with all these people who think they know her, but actually know nothing.

Chloe finds Sadie, Lori and Isabella watching Isabella's boyfriend, Vince, and another boy she doesn't quite recognise get absolutely demolished at Beer Pong by two football players, who look as if they're bound to fall over any minute.

Sadie wraps an arm around Chloe's shoulders when she sees her, drawing her into a drunken embrace and practically screaming in her ear. "Chloe, you made it!"

"As if you gave me a choice!" Chloe yells back, and then immediately regrets it when she feels a certain, now-familiar twinge in her throat.

Fuck.

She sips her drink, hoping to dispel the discomfort, but it only makes it worse.

"Dude," Lori says, eyeing her curiously. "How much have you had to drink? You're already grimacing."

Chloe clears her throat. "Not nearly enough," she says, and Lori whoops, throwing a fist in the air. Chloe has enough sense to know leaving the remainder of her night in Lori's hands probably won't be a good idea, but it's better than leaving it in Sadie's, so...

So.

She gets drunk.

Like, _super_ drunk.

The kind of drunk that has her making out with Tom and convincing herself she enjoys it. The kind of drunk that has her dancing rather explicitly with Lori for everyone to see and not caring one iota. The kind of drunk that has her forgetting all her woes and endless questions and general life as it is.

It is pure, magical bliss.

* * *

"Quinn?"

She almost drops her cup of coffee where she's just taken a sip at the sound of the voice. Her head turns to spy Rachel standing just behind the kitchen island, looking slightly unsure as she fiddles with the hem of her sweater.

"Will you marry me?"

Quinn blinks. "What?"

"Will you marry me?" Rachel repeats, and, yip, Quinn is definitely hearing her correctly.

"Baby, you do realise we're already married, right?"

Rachel steps around the island, her body open for Quinn. "But, will you?"

Quinn has experienced a very odd night, spending it with her best friends and also having a strange conversation with her wife that she still isn't sure what was all about. So she says, "Yes," because there's really no other response. She answered the same way the first time Rachel asked.

Rachel breathes out in relief, as if Quinn would answer any other way.

"Just making sure you still want me, after all that craziness earlier."

Quinn sets her coffee cup on the counter, and glances past Rachel's shoulder to where Santana and Brittany are curled up on one of the couches closest to the fire - which is a novelty from their New York home. Their children are all asleep upstairs, Julian and Francesco slotting into their Lima lives as if this isn't a new State.

"If you hop on the counter and spread your legs, I'll show you _exactly_ how much I want you," Quinn says, a little too casually, and Rachel actually gasps. She also momentarily looks as if she'll allow it, but then comes to her senses, which is doubly amusing to Quinn.

"I guess I didn't actually get my donut holes, huh?"

"Cockblocked by my own best friends," Quinn says, shaking her head in amusement.

"And your children."

"When will we ever eat these donut holes?"

Rachel smiles, almost a smirk. "I love you, Quinn Fabray."

"Excuse you," Quinn pouts. "It's Berry-Fabray to you, thank you very much."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Did you just agree to marry me, when you're already married?" she asks.

God, Quinn loves her so, her mouth spreading into a grin. "I won't tell my wife if you won't."

* * *

**Chloe** : _I am soooo glad that I met U!_

 **Chloe** : _I think we're going 2 b reeeeeeeeeally fast friends fdsalkjhg_

 **Beca** : _Chloe, are you drunk_?

 **Chloe** : _NOOOoOOoO_

 **Beca** : _Cute_.

 **Chloe** : _I no CUte!_

 **Beca** : _I stand corrected_.

 **Chlo** e: _HUSH_

 **Beca** : _Get home safe, please_.

 **Beca** : _Make good choices_.

After the exchange, Grandma Lou asks Beca what she wants for Christmas. It's an innocuous question, because they both know they can never get back what they've lost.

Still, Beca has an answer. "Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd help me buy a car."

* * *

Christmas Day is a disaster.

There's really no other way to describe it. There are no other words. Nothing Quinn could say or do to make the situation look any better than it actually is. Because it is a straight-up catastrophe. Something that alters their lives in a way that doesn't allow them not to look at the situation as it is, and make the difficult decisions.

The day, itself, starts out well. Pretty amazing, actually. Quinn knows how much thought and work Rachel has put into making sure their children get to experience something of an authentic Christmas, if not for the religious meaning, then for the cultural one.

The two of them wake to the sound of running feet long before the crack of dawn, and it takes a team effort to wrangle their excitable human beings into breakfast, presents and Mass.

Quinn always gives her children the choice. It's something she never had growing up, whether to believe or whether she had to go to church or Sunday School or even Youth Group. She learned to hate it, and some parts of religion, but she's glad to be able to share some kind of religion with her children, all while still giving them the option.

Matty is too young to understand beyond the floating candles and pretty music, and Mia just likes to sit curled in Quinn's lap. Emma understands, and has all the kinds of questions expected of children her age. Beth just likes to spend time with Quinn whenever she's around, and Rachel would much rather stay home and relax than freeze in a chapel, as beautifully crafted as it might be.

The problem is their Christmas plans include a big Christmas lunch at Hiram and LeRoy's house. While Quinn was hesitant to put that kind of pressure on them, both men and Rachel insisted. If it was going to be one of the last holiday seasons LeRoy was likely to remember, they had to do it right, and Quinn could argue only so much.

It's just that she, of all people, can understand the burden of stress, so she offers to prepare a few separate dishes and just hope for the best.

The best does not arrive.

On a list of things Quinn has that would push her past her threshold, all three happen during the course of one afternoon. Quinn knows she can't blame LeRoy. She can't. That wouldn't be right, because none of it is his fault.

But, what makes her angry and almost feral is that all of this could have been avoided if everyone would just accept that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

It happens in stages.

Terrifying, heartbreaking stages.

It isn't the first time LeRoy has forgotten who Rachel is, but it hasn't happened in quite some time. It's worse that he knows _of_ Rachel, but his mind tells him she's still in Shelby's womb. Hiram tries to explain the situation to him, which just makes everything infinitely worse.

Quinn hates the look on Rachel's face; hates it with such a passion that she wants to hold her wife in her arms and assure her that everything is okay and he just doesn't mean it.

But then Hiram looks at Quinn like _she's_ the one who's done something wrong, and it prickles her skin in a way that's familiar and also not. It doesn't happen often with Rachel's parents, but it reminds her too much of her own family.

As if she's the one who ruined her life with her own family by making the mistakes she did. As if she's the one who made them intolerant and bigoted enough to rid their lives of her when she didn't turn out exactly the way they wanted.

Hiram says, "Do something," as if she's supposed to fix everything; as if it's somehow her fault their unnecessarily extravagant meal is bound to fall apart. Quinn isn't sinister enough to let it get any worse, because this is her wife and she loves her more than anything in the world.

But, before she can say or do anything, the third thing happens, and it takes Quinn right over the edge and into a state of mind that feels as if it doesn't even belong to her anymore. Takes her to a place in her life she's wanted to forget, even if her therapist won't allow her to.

Because there's a sudden slap, and Quinn's blood grows cold at the sight of LeRoy batting away Emma's hand as she tries to help him get settled. It's not particularly hard, but it's more surprising than anything, and all the adults freeze.

Emma cries, "Grandpa," with all the childish confusion she feels as she rubs at the back of her hand, and Rachel quietly soothes, "I'm sorry, baby, he didn't mean it. He doesn't know who you are."

When Emma whispers, "What does that have to do with anything?" Quinn shoots out of her seat and starts to gather her children. It's something automatic; this blistering desire to get her family out of here and away from this situation. The afternoon is already unsalvageable, and Quinn can't sit her another second.

Her children are hurting.

 _She_ is hurting, and, as much as Rachel tries to hide it, she's hurting, too.

It takes Hiram and Rachel a moment to realise what Quinn is doing, both of them attempting to calm LeRoy enough to stop lashing out at all of them. Rachel freezes where she is, hands hanging in the air, and looks at Quinn with something between confusion and betrayal.

In the moment, Quinn doesn't care.

Rachel asks, "What are you doing?"

Quinn lifts Matty into her arms, and then reaches for one of Mia's hands. Emma is already at her side, ready to go and _wanting_ to. It's too much, this entire thing, and Quinn hates that they've put them all into this impossible position. She hates that it all could have been avoided if they'd just listened to her.

"Quinn," Rachel says, and there's pleading in her voice. Quinn can hear it. Rachel needs her to stay; needs her to help figure out this situation. But Quinn's priority has never been Rachel's parents; not compared to their children, and Rachel has to know that.

So, she says, "I'm taking our children home," with a tone of voice that's final and unfeeling. Her gaze meets Rachel's, forcing her to make a decision when she asks, "Are you coming?"

* * *

Grandma Lou's community goes all out for Christmas.

It's a tiny bit garish, and Beca kind of hates it until her grandmother says, "The other residents are sometimes all the family some of them have."

It's sobering, because, if Rachel hadn't suggested Beca visit her grandmother, she would be one of those celebrating without family, as well.

The main pavilion is packed with people, but Grandma Lou and her closest friends occupy a relatively quiet corner. The barbecues are all fired up, the food tables covered in treats, and visiting children are running around screaming and laughing.

"Gran," Beca says, eyeing the heap of food Nancy has just put onto her plate. She's far too skinny, apparently. "I can't eat all of this."

"Try," Grandma Lou says, moving along and offering her little sympathy. "At least eat the green beans. Paula won an actual award at a festival for them."

Beca pouts.

She hates green beans.

Tina snaps a picture of her, and Jacob tells her a story from his days in the War. She's not sure which one, but it sounds terrifying, even if he still wears a smile, a wistful expression on his face. She doesn't think he actually misses being in battle, but he must miss having some kind of purpose.

Beca can definitely understand that. A lot of things about her life made some kind of sense before, but she's felt a little lost since she moved to Lima. Since she lost her mother.

No.

She's not going to think about that right now. Instead, she's going to allow herself to enjoy this time.

Right until the moment Grandma Lou makes a comment about her passion for music to Stella, who was put in charge of the event's entertainment. They've just had a random playlist playing loudly throughout the entire event, but Grandma Lou's casual mention results in tens of elderly people giving Beca _those_ eyes in order to convince her to showcase some of her talent.

Beca almost shies away from the attention, but, if she intends to make a career out of this, she's going to have to start somewhere, right?

Still, she puts up just enough of a fight to get them all smiling and offering her all kinds of cooked goods in exchange for her services.

Beca finally exaggerates a, " _Fine_ ," and then rushes to get her laptop from her grandmother's place. She's a little nervous, given how impromptu this is, but she's ready. She has a specific set just for this demographic - based on her grandmother's tastes - and she's a little excited to have family who support her passions, rather than try to stifle them.

Speaking of.

Beca can't stop herself from sending a picture of the setup to Rachel once she's got everything in place, just wanting her to know.

 **Beca** : _I'm totally about to make my DJ debut to a bunch of old people_ 😏

And, of course, Rachel replies barely a minute later.

 **Rachel** : _Ohmygod, it's happening it's happening! Make sure you get someone to record it_.

 **Beca** : _Why_?

 **Rachel** : _So I can see it. Duh_.

 **Rachel** : _Also, so TMZ will have something to find when you're a hotshot music producer years from now_ 😉

Beca can't possibly contain her smile. It's wide and blinding, and lasts the entire set, her audience very into the music she plays for them. She mixes it up with some classics, and they seem to be huge lovers of Bruce Springsteen - not that she blames them.

She even gets a proposal from Edward, for his grandson, and Grandma Lou says, "She doesn't swing that way, Ed," with all the casualness Beca wishes she possessed.

Edward just blinks once, twice, and then says, "Well, I have a granddaughter, too."

* * *

It takes four hours and fifty-seven minutes for Rachel to be able to talk to Quinn again. She's quietly seethed for four of those hours, her expression severe as Quinn drove them home, put together some kind of Christmas meal, and then settled their children with a _Disney_ film and their Christmas presents.

Quinn's barely looked at her in that time, which would make her more agitated, if the opposite wouldn't have angered her further. They're experts at existing in the same place and being miles apart, fighting without actually fighting. At this point, she'll take the silence over their possibly saying things they'll come to regret.

Emma can tell something's wrong - it doesn't take much to figure it out - but she says very little beyond making sure her siblings are okay and that Quinn is _there_. As if she's the one Emma trusts to keep her safe in this moment, and Rachel feels it in her bones.

It stings a little, that Quinn wouldn't try for a united front; that she'd create some kind of division to make it look as if their children aren't her number one priority. Because they are. It's just -

They're her _parents_. Quinn's view on parental figures is a little skewed, with reason, so the disconnect makes sense. It's just -

At five hours, they put the children to bed, both of them moving seamlessly together. They don't need to be speaking to work side-by-side when it comes to this practiced routine. She watches Quinn kiss Matty's forehead, snuggle Mia until she giggles, and then lead Emma to her bedroom with a soft smile on her face.

Well.

Despite their respective careers, Quinn really has always been the better actress.

Rachel finishes up with her own goodnight to an already-sleeping Matty and a giggly Mia, who looks at her with shining and bright eyes, and then goes to find Quinn and Emma. Her heart hurts a little as she approaches the open door, hearing their voices and wondering if what's happened is irreparable.

She hears Emma ask, "Mommy, does Grandpa Lee hate me?" and her heart cracks open.

"Of course not," Quinn tells her, and there's such certainty in her voice. "He loves you so, so much, Sweets. He was just confused. He didn't know who you were."

"But, why would that make hitting me okay?"

"It doesn't," Quinn agrees. "But, you have to understand, baby, that he's having a hard time, and we're going to have to be patient with him, okay? It doesn't make what happened okay, but we have to understand what it's like for him, so we can help in ways that don't make it worse, okay? It's scary for him, finding himself in foreign situations and being surrounded by people he doesn't recognise, and sometimes he just needs some time and space to work through the confusion, and he didn't have that."

Emma is quiet for a moment. "Will he remember me tomorrow?"

Rachel closes her eyes, her heart twisting in her chest, because Quinn can't answer that question with any kind of certainty.

"I hope so," Quinn says. "I really, really hope so."

Rachel sucks in a breath at the words, steels herself, and then walks into the room to say her own Goodnight. Quinn tenses slightly when she senses her approach, and then seamlessly gets to her feet from where she's perched on the edge of Emma's bed. She bends to kiss Emma's forehead, whispers a quiet goodnight and _I love you_ , and then leaves the room without another word.

Rachel is almost too scared to look at Emma, but she forces herself to, and she's relieved to find Emma actually smiling at her. Emma yawns a beat later, which makes them both giggle. Rachel knows she has to say something to ease Emma's worries, because their daughter feels everything rather acutely, but she can't think of the right words.

Good thing Emma's really more of Quinn's daughter, because _she_ does. "It's okay, Mama," she says, sounding far older than her nine years. "Mom explained. I think I understand what happened."

And, wow, Rachel loves her so, so much.

"I'm sorry Grandpa got so scared," Emma says. "I'll be more careful next time."

If Rachel's heart wasn't already broken; it breaks in this moment. "Thank you, baby," she whispers. "We do need to be very careful."

"I'll make sure Mia knows," Emma assures her, and Rachel sees so much of Quinn in her that it's scary.

But, also, such a relief.

Emma yawns, and Rachel bends to kiss her forehead. "Sleep tight, okay," she says. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you too, Ma," Emma tells her, yawning again. "I sleep now."

Rachel chuckles softly, makes sure Emma is properly tucked in, and then leaves the room on legs that want to take her directly to Quinn.

She resists.

Instead, she goes to retrieve her phone, so she can talk to her father. There are two texts from Hiram, and a single missed call. She can only wonder what he has to say, and she doesn't know if she'll be able to defend her wife in this moment.

Defend herself.

Gosh, why does everything have to be so complicated?

Hiram picks up on the fifth ring and says, "I've just managed to get him to sleep," in lieu of a greeting, and he sounds tense and agitated. Then: "What were you two thinking?"

Now, _she's_ the one who's tense and agitated, because there's an accusation in there, and she doesn't like it. All she's done is try to make everything easier for her parents; for her entire family, and she's just being pulled in so many different directions, in an attempt to hold onto her own sanity.

Things have been difficult enough without her father playing the blame game. She already knows she's partly at fault, but that doesn't absolve anyone else of the roles they've played.

"I'm glad to hear he's managing some sleep," is what she ends up saying.

"No thanks to you," he comments, and Rachel doesn't have it in herself to humour him in this moment. She's not in an apologising mood, either, because everything could have been avoided if -

"Well, I was just checking in," she says. "Emma's fine, by the way. Not that you were worried, I'm sure. Talk to you tomorrow." She hangs up before he can respond, feeling disgust at her own pettiness. It's all just such a mess, and she's just so tired.

God, she's exhausted.

While she has her phone in her hand, she makes a note to schedule an appointment with their therapist. Huh. Maybe call it an emergency and get Dr Franco to see them as soon as possible. She took Quinn seriously when she first suggested it just a few days ago, and she made plans for the new year, but it feels dire now. _Urgent_.

It's just too much, all of a sudden, and she can barely handle it anymore.

She doesn't think Quinn can, either. These past few days have made Quinn's retreat pointless. She basically arrived to welcome visitors and then some kind of inquisition from her wife, for reasons they both don't quite understand. It feels as if it's building and building, and something is going to give.

The last thing they need is for that to happen.

With a sigh, Rachel goes to find Quinn. She's not sure what she's going to say when she sees her, but she needs to lay eyes on her, even if she's still irritated with… the situation. Quinn has always been her safe place, and she doesn't anticipate that ever changing. It's been that way since before they even started dating, which really never quite bode well for any of her relationships before Quinn.

Ever since Quinn allowed it to be, Rachel's first call has always been her.

Rachel isn't surprised to find Quinn in her office, staring at her laptop's screen but not actually typing anything. Her focus looks completely elsewhere, and Rachel stands in the doorway for nearly four full minutes before Quinn even notices her arrival.

Her head lifts, eyes a little wide and apologetic. She looks so young in this moment, but Rachel knows it's just a trick of the light. They're both such old souls, and nothing could convince her otherwise.

"I'm sorry," Quinn eventually says. "I know you're angry. I know you're hurt." She clenches her jaw. "I know you think I didn't do the right thing, but - "

"You did," Rachel interrupts, and Quinn's mouth snaps shut. "You did, and I hate it."

Quinn looks stumped.

"I'm sorry, too," Rachel says, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing. It's actually Quinn's, from her soccer days at Yale. "I've been putting it off. Having to accept what has to happen. My father can't handle it. Neither of them. I - I know you mentioned having them move in with us, but I don't see how we can realistically handle it when he gets worse, and I - " she stops, her words catching on a sob.

Quinn shoots out of her chair and moves towards Rachel, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Baby," she whispers.

"I'm just - I'm so overwhelmed," Rachel confesses into Quinn's shoulder, probably drooling onto her shirt. "Everything is just happening, and we're having this weird non-fight about things neither of us even understands, and I don't know how to stop myself from thinking that I've dragged you into a mess of a life you don't even want, and - "

Quinn pulls back quite suddenly. "Stop it," she says, and the tone of her voice is reminiscent of her teenage years. There's an edge to it that renders Rachel mute. "I want _you_ ," she says, as if the words could be enough. "Believe me, you would never be able to make me do anything I didn't want to, on some level. I'm sure it was you who called me a stubborn asshole our freshman year of college."

" _Sometimes_ is not Britney Spears' best song, Quinn," Rachel mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"We agreed to disagree," Quinn reminds her. "We're not reigniting this debate, even though you know I'm right."

"Oh, my God."

Quinn just kisses the top of her head, still a little amused. "I love you," she whispers. "I'm sorry your day hasn't worked out the way you wanted."

Rachel breathes in, comforted by Quinn's scent. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she says, because she really doesn't, even though they're going to have to.

"Okay," Quinn says. "Then, what do you want?"

"This," she says, holding onto Quinn that but tighter. "Just this."

* * *

If anyone were to ask Chloe what her favourite day of the year is; she would probably say the day after Christmas Day. Boxing Day. Not because of whatever Boxing Day actually means, but because of the fact the morning of Boxing Day is the morning after Christmas.

Chloe wouldn't say her family necessarily has a tradition of getting pancakes at one of the local diners, but it's something close. It's just that nobody is bothered to do any cooking - even if it's just to repurpose leftovers - so they go out, instead.

This Boxing Day, though, they're in Columbus, spending the holidays in a hotel, to be close to Chloe's grandmother. Chloe doesn't know how they're supposed to keep up the tradition, or even if her parents are aware of the thing they've been doing for the past four years.

Granted, this is the first Christmas without Patrick, and Chloe understands more than most why her mother and aunt are making such a huge fuss about this predicted last one with their own mother. The idea of losing more of her family in such a permanent way is paralysing, but she's good at suppressing feelings she just isn't yet ready to face.

Which is why it's a surprise when her mother wakes her up with the words, "Hurry, Chloe; we're meant to meet Annie and the kids at the diner in a half-hour."

She's too caught off guard that she doesn't even have the time to scowl at the fact her mother has left her such little time to get ready. Sweats, it's going to have to be, and she's not even a little bit embarrassed. She even Snaps a selfie of herself to Beca, wearing a pout and hoping she looks semi-cute this early in the morning.

Chloe wouldn't call herself excited, but she's something close. She can't remember anything they've really done as a family in the past few months, and she tries to ignore that her Aunt Annie and cousins are joining them, as well, having driven in from Cincinnati. She loves them, of course, and she's missed seeing them, but, where she used to have Patrick by her side, she just doesn't, anymore.

And, being around D.J., Stephanie and Michelle just puts it all into perspective that her partner-in-crime is no longer around. She and Patrick used to find great amusement in the three sisters, watching them bicker and clash based on their starkly different personalities. It was always great entertainment, and Chloe just doesn't feel as if she can take joy in those things the way she used to.

She wonders if time will help with that.

It hasn't really helped with anything else, so she's not holding her breath.

By the time they get to the diner, Chloe's received a reply from Beca that makes her cheeks turn pink, a caption attached to a selfie of her own, eyes a little knowing and a smirk on her lips.

 **Beca** : _Every time your name pops us, I worry it's just more drunken rambling. And I totally dig the hoodie. Wouldn't have pegged you for a Slytherin_.

 **Chloe** : _You promised to ignore that. Would you believe me if I told you this hoodie is Aubrey's_?

 **Beca** : _I promised to ignore the rambling words, but not that it happened… Nope. I don't believe it. Also, why are you up so early, anyway_?

 **Chloe** : _That is an interesting loophole, Mitchell. Suit yourself. It's really not that early_.

 **Beca** : _I'm smart like that, you see_ _And, yeah, it is. We should both still be in bed_.

Chloe turns even more red, when her brain conjures up an image involving herself, Beca and a bed. She shakes her head to clear it before -

Well.

"Chloe?"

She snaps to attention, eyes seeking her mother, who is giving her a curious look.

"We're here," Maggie says, eyes darting from Chloe's face, down to her phone, and then back up. "Are you coming?"

Chloe hesitates a beat, and then says, "I'll be right there," and then shoots off one last text to Beca.

 **Chloe** : _I do see, Bec ☺️_ _Gosh, wouldn't that be the stuff of dreams_?

* * *

"You ever just look at your kid and think you are so perfect and so beautiful... and so fucking exhausting?"

Rachel lets out a laugh at the sound of Quinn's words, humming when she feels arms wrap around her waist from behind. Her own hands settle over Quinn's, slipping her fingers into the spaces between Quinn's - where they fit perfectly. "Which kid are we talking about?" Rachel asks, leaning into Quinn's body.

"All of them," Quinn murmurs, pressing kisses to the side of Rachel's exposed neck. They're blissfully alone, just for a few hours, with their kids finally just picked up to go out with Santana, Brittany and their boys.

Rachel's more surprised they're not already naked, given the fact Quinn has been away and they've been involved in some strange miscommunication.

Right now, Quinn just seems content to hold her close - which Rachel has no problem with, of course.

"Even Beth?" Rachel teases, and Quinn nips at the skin of her neck with the tips of her teeth.

"She sent me pictures of her new goldfish," Quinn says. "I don't - I've never understood that kid."

"Probably the Noah in her," Rachel says, relaxing even more into Quinn's embrace. Her wife is warm and solid behind her, but there's a certain nervousness that Rachel can feel practically radiating off her. "Baby, what is it?"

Quinn doesn't say anything for a moment, and then very quietly reveals, "I think we should go and talk to your fathers."

Rachel stiffens, because she knows this has been coming for a while. "About what?" she asks, though they're both already aware Rachel knows.

Quinn just holds her tighter, allowing her a moment to adjust to and accept the suggestion for what it is. An opportunity.

Rachel eventually sighs, giving in. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

It goes about as well as Quinn expects.

She's honest with herself, so she knows it was always going to be a difficult conversation. But, goodness, even she couldn't have predicted just how ugly it would turn. She tries to look at it from their point of view; tries desperately to put herself in their shoes and accept that her own reaction would have been similar. Maybe worse.

But, God, it doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.

Rachel is the one who first brings up the home in Columbus, and it balloons into something regrettable right from there. Quinn opts to sit silently, because she and Rachel already know anything coming from her will be taken the wrong way. It barely matters, though, because Quinn still ends up blamed for the decision. LeRoy disappears somewhere during their explanation, his anger mixed with confusion, sending him on a walk in the backyard, but Hiram's eyes latch onto her, hard and stony, and Quinn resolves to sit and take it, her jaw clenched so tightly she's sure her teeth are going to crack.

"This is probably your idea," Hiram accuses, angry beyond comprehension. "Just because your family threw you away, you want my daughter to do the same!"

Quinn goes completely still, and Rachel gasps at the sound of her father's words. "Dad," she says, voice barely audible in the face of her own surprise. "How can you say something like that?"

"It's true, isn't it? I know _you_ wouldn't do this to us."

"It was my idea," Rachel shouts right back at him. "Quinn has been nothing but supportive about everything we've been doing for you and Daddy, and I sure as hell won't have you speaking to or about my wife like that."

Quinn's fingers grip the back of Rachel's sweater, a silent warning that escalation is the last thing they need right now.

Rachel takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Dad, this is what we're suggesting," she says. "Daddy's doctors believe it's the best place for him. He's getting worse, and I know you can't handle it."

"Of course, I can handle it," Hiram snaps.

"No, you can't," Rachel says, equally stern. "Look at you. This is - it's a round-the-clock commitment, and you're barely holding it together, and there's is nothing wrong with - "

"Stop it," Hiram suddenly says. "Just stop. We are not just putting your father in a home. We are not just leaving him when he needs us the most."

"That is _not_ what we're doing," Rachel counters, needing to believe it herself to argue for it. "It's not."

Hiram stares, cold with disbelief, and then says, "Get out."

Rachel gasps again. "What?"

"Get out of our house," Hiram repeats. "You don't get to come in here and tell us that - "

Quinn gets to her feet quite suddenly, stopping him from saying whatever hurtful thing he's going to say to Rachel. _She_ can take it, but never Rachel. Never.

"We'll go," Quinn says, speaking for the first time. Her hand reaches for Rachel, helping her to her feet. "We'll go, and the two of you can think about it some more. Talk about it. Discuss it when you're calmer." Her jaw clenches. "Whatever you think about me, fine, but don't you dare accuse Rachel of not loving you." She shakes her head. "If anything, she loves you too damn much."

* * *

Rachel thinks, on another day, she might have cried, but the solidity of Quinn right beside her makes it easy for her to hold her tears in.

In fact, they barely even want to come.

Instead, when they get home, Rachel kisses Quinn as if their lives depend on it. How dare her father accuse Quinn of such a thing? How dare he use some of Quinn's most painful demons against her like that?

Rachel kisses her hard and fast, practically bruising, and then suddenly just stops, pulling back and looking into Quinn's very dazed eyes. "I didn't give you your Christmas present," she says.

Quinn blinks slowly. "Um. Okay."

Rachel carefully disentangles herself from Quinn, smiling at the sound of protest the blonde makes. "I'm going to go upstairs," she says. "You're going to wait here."

"What?"

"Come up to our room in ten minutes."

"What?"

"Ten minutes, Quinn."

And then she's gone, leaving a very confused - probably horny - blonde in her wake.

* * *

Quinn makes it to nine minutes before she loses patience, her mind already whirring with all the different thoughts she's been having about the events of the day.

It doesn't help that she keeps staring at the clock on the wall, practically counting down the seconds until she gets to put her hands and mouth on her wife's body. Because, honestly, she knows what's coming.

Hah.

 _She_ is.

At nine minutes and thirteen seconds, she gets to her feet and practically races up the stairs, her footsteps heavy on the carpet. She wants to give Rachel plenty of warning about her arrival, and so she's not surprised when the door to their bedroom opens just as she reaches it.

She barely has a moment to register what Rachel is - or isn't - wearing before Rachel's fist closes around her shirt and tugs her into the room, slamming the door behind them.

Weirdly, Quinn is used to being manhandled in the bedroom. Rachel likes to direct her places, pulling her this way and that, pushing her onto furniture and -

Quinn trips over a shoe, stumbling backwards until she's sprawled across their couch. It winds her a little, but then there's a body on top of her, kissing her and touching her, and she forgets the rest of the world even exists beyond this moment right here. There is _so much_ going on around them, but her senses are all filled with her gorgeous, talented wife.

"You're impatient," Rachel accuses, her lips trailing along Quinn's jaw.

"So are you," Quinn counters, breathing heavily. She pulls back so she can look at Rachel's face, and then gasps at the sight of what Rachel is wearing, seeing her (lack of) outfit for the first time. "Fuck."

Rachel smiles, a little coy. "Like what you see?"

Quinn can't help herself. Her hands reach for Rachel's sides, her fingers curling over soft skin. "Are you my present?"

"Baby, you don't have to wait for a special occasion to unwrap me," Rachel murmurs, and Quinn's body threatens to ignite.

"Holy fuck," Quinn murmurs, her eyes darting over Rachel's body, taking it all in. "Just, fuck."

Rachel giggles softly, pulling back and obviously enjoying Quinn's sound of protest. "I'm meant to be dancing for you," she says.

Quinn is aware she must look dumb, but she can't help it. "What?"

"Your present," Rachel says, as she straightens completely, stepping back and turning to switch on the song she's cued up.

"I thought that was you," Quinn says, attempting to sit properly, so she can see all of Rachel. And, goodness, there's so much to see. Quinn has always loved her wife's legs, and her eyes settle there for entirely too long.

Rachel clears her throat, and Quinn's eyes snap upwards. The red satin holding onto all of Rachel's gorgeous curves fills Quinn with an odd sense of jealousy, and she just wants to touch.

And taste.

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you," Rachel informs her, humming as the music starts. "Me, and this entire family, Quinn. We love you, and I know, without a single thought, there is nobody on this Earth who could make me as happy as you do."

Before Quinn can even think of anything to say in response, Rachel starts to sing along to _Let's Stay Inside (Stripped Christmas)_ by Adaline, a smile breaking out on both their faces.

_Oh, love you, love you, love you more each year  
_ _They could strip away the cheer  
_ _I'd still be standing here  
_ _You gave me, gave me, gave me the greatest gift  
_ _I can strike It off my list  
_ _I no longer need to wish_

_Snowy streets are buzzing baby  
_ _Take me home and lay with me_

Rachel does a slow twirl, her hips moving to the soft rhythm, and Quinn is transfixed. She wants nothing more than to reach out, but Rachel is just far enough that Quinn would have to get to her feet, and she doesn't think Rachel would let her.

Plus, she really doesn't want the show to stop just yet.

_Won't stop snowing today  
_ _So you should stay here for a while  
_ _No sense going away  
_ _So, pray it stays this cold all year_

_Oh, take me, take me, take me on a sleigh ride  
_ _Past the February nights into the spring morning light  
_ _Cause you thrill me, thrill me,  
_ _thrill me like no one else it's the best I've ever felt  
_ _You make the snow around me melt_

_All the lights are lovely baby  
_ _Mostly cause you're here with me_

Rachel looks uncharacteristically nervous once the song is over, her eyes soft and vulnerable. "Well?" she asks, as if Quinn could possibly not love everything about this moment.

Instead of responding vocally, Quinn gets to her feet and finally allows herself to touch. Hands and fingers drawn to such tantalising skin. She smiles, steady and sure, and then leans in to kiss her wife, already knowing words won't be necessary today.

The sex that follows, which might have been explosive twenty minutes ago, is anything but. Rachel is very obviously trying to tell her something, and Quinn is hearing everything she's not saying with words, but rather with her touch.

It's a language they're both familiar with.

A language they're sometimes more comfortable using when communication in other forms starts to fail them. Rachel could try to apologise or explain all the ways Hiram is wrong, but Quinn doesn't need to hear that.

She needs this, and Rachel is willing to give everything.

She always has been.


	14. Chapter 14

**XIV**

**Chloe** : _We should hang out when you get back_.

She sends the text before she can really think about it, and then immediately cringes at her own wording. She really could have been more... suave about it. Just, a lot cooler, and probably added something more. Maybe a question about how her holiday is going, or -

Just, something more.

She's left to worry about it for three and a half long minutes before Beca texts back a response, easing the curl of anxiety in Chloe's chest.

 **Beca** : _Because you're asking so nicely, huh_?

Chloe can't help her grin, because she can just imagine Beca saying those exact words, the sarcasm coming out as a pleasant drawl.

Goodness, she's got it bad.

 **Chloe** : _I mean, I COULD... but I've found making demands works better when it comes to you_.

 **Beca** : _Why me_?

Well.

That's a complicated question, isn't it?

Chloe decides to go with the truth, because she's done enough lying for one year, surely. Enough lying to Beca, and enough lying to herself.

 **Chloe** : _I don't know, Beca. There's just something about you_.

 **Beca** : _Is that a good or bad thing_?

That is a much easier question to answer.

 **Chloe** : _Good. Definitely good ️_

* * *

Dr Kristen Franco spends the first half of their joint session listening to Rachel and Quinn detail everything that's happened since their last meeting. It takes a full hour, and, even then, they're sure they've missed out on a lot.

If Quinn is being honest, she's actually really nervous about what the therapist is going to say. She's felt bad, sure, but she didn't think it was as much of a problem as it is until Rachel pointed out her own worries. They've struggled with communication in the past, Quinn choosing to internalise and remove herself from situations, while Rachel's instinct is to face the problem head-on and talk it out.

Somehow, they've made it this far, but they seem to be stumbling right when they need to be solid. Some things have been brought up that Quinn isn't sure they would be able to figure it out without some external help.

Once they're done and Rachel says, "And, that's what you missed on Faberry," Dr Franco just spends a full minute staring at them. For a moment, Quinn thinks her screen has frozen, but she reaches for a notepad a beat later, and -

"So, where would you like to start?" Dr Franco finally asks. "It seems we have a few pressing things to discuss."

Quinn doesn't respond, but Rachel immediately says, "whatever you think is best." Then, she breathes out. "Though, I think I would like to tackle the - " she stops. "I just - this thought that Quinn isn't happy won't leave me alone, and I don't - I just want to understand why that is."

Quinn closes her eyes. The last thing she's ever wanted is for Rachel to think she's not happy. Not in their marriage, and not in this life they're living. Nothing about her life would be worth it without her wife and kids. It's really that simple.

She's always wondered if _she_ makes _them_ happy.

Dr Franco hums, watching them carefully. "One thing I can say that makes you two differ from some of my other couples is that, despite all you've been through, your sex life doesn't seem to suffer," she comments, and Quinn feels a flush to her cheeks that's unexpected.

"My wife is hot," Rachel comments lightly, and Quinn clears her throat.

Dr Franco smiles at her obvious discomfort, and then pointedly asks, "So, you went on another retreat?"

Quinn fidgets in her seat. "I did."

"Why?"

Quinn keeps her stare determinedly on her hands in her lap. "I needed it," she says, frowning slightly. "I'm behind on my writing, and, with schools closed for Winter Break, it seemed the best time to dedicate some time to my work."

"Is that the only reason?"

Quinn decides she hates Dr Franco. But not really. "I don't know," she admits. "Maybe not. The changes have been overwhelming, and I think I've been coping, given everything, but I - I don't know."

"You needed a break," Dr Franco says, and Quinn winces. It sounds horrible when it's put like that; like Quinn needed a break from her life. Which, _yes_ , but not because she hates it or doesn't want it.

Isn't it the right thing to do, when you feel yourself losing control a little, to do what's needed to rectify it? Quinn takes retreats, and Rachel holds onto her family tighter. They just respond differently to overwhelming situations. It doesn't say anything about the state of their marriage.

Quinn can tell herself the same thing over and over, but she's not sure she's ever going to believe it. Not if even Rachel can't. Or won't.

It's a complicated situation.

"There is nothing wrong with that," Dr Franco assures Quinn, as if she knows they're the words both women need to hear. "There's also nothing wrong with Rachel's reaction to it."

Quinn clenches her jaw, and forces herself to voice her thoughts. Early in their relationship, both of them used to swallow their words to avoid conflict, but then things would stew and build up, and they would have explosive fights that would leave them on the brink.

Now, they force themselves to air everything, which is why Quinn says, "She said it was okay." She's aware Rachel looks at her, but Quinn keeps her gaze focused on the screen before them.

"It was," Rachel says. "It _is_." She breathes out. "I understand the retreats. I meant what I said when I assured you it was okay to go, and I - I haven't changed my mind about that."

"But..." Dr Franco prompts.

Rachel doesn't look as if she's inclined to elaborate, so it's surprising when she says, "I just can't help thinking it's my fault."

Quinn freezes, eyes widening. " _What_?"

Rachel sighs. "Am I - are we the reason you need to go on these retreats?" she questions. "Is it too much?"

"Of course not," Quinn says, quickly and adamantly. "Rachel, honey, you know I learned this coping mechanism before we even started dating."

"Then, we're not enough to make sure you no longer need it," Rachel presses, and Quinn feels lost.

"What are you talking about?" she asks. "The retreats have nothing to do with my personal relationships." She glances at Dr Franco for some guidance, but the woman just gestures for her to keep talking. "It is not your responsibility to - to keep me... present or happy or whatever you think you need to keep me."

"I'm your wife," Rachel counters. "I'm supposed to be the person you turn to."

"But, you are," Quinn says, frowning, because this sounds like something else completely, and that's proved when Rachel keeps talking.

"I'm the person you're supposed to be the most at ease with, but I sometimes feel as if you've placed all this pressure on yourself to be this person you think we need you to be, and I hate that you need retreats to recharge for a role it seems you're playing."

It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of Quinn's lungs. " _Rachel_ ," she breathes, completely blindsided.

"It's supposed to be me," Rachel says, not even looking at her. "Not Santana."

And _that_ feels like a sucker punch, right into the gut.

Why would -

How could -

Quinn looks at Dr Franco again, but she's silent. Basically allowing Quinn the opportunity to say her own words the way Rachel has. So, she takes a deep breath and runs her hands over her thighs, trying to make sense of how they've managed to get to this point.

What she knows is it's nothing new. Rachel has probably felt this for some time, and it's only rearing its ugly head now.

Okay.

They can figure this out.

They've accomplished so much together already; they can do anything.

"Do you remember the night I came out to my mother?" is the first thing that comes out of Quinn's mouth, which surprises them both. All.

Rachel looks at her, a crease in her brow. "I don't think I'm capable of forgetting," she responds tightly.

Quinn breathes in. "It felt like the end of the world all over again," she says. "As much as I prepared for the outcome; as much as I told myself I would be okay, regardless of what happened; it still broke my heart to know I was losing my family all over again." She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, uncharacteristically nervous. "It was devastating, but - "

"But..." Dr Franco prompts, and Quinn shoots her a betrayed glare.

"But I had you," Quinn says. "I _have_ you, Rachel, and I'm not so far lost to my own head-demons not to know how good I have it." She breathes in. "I don't know what any of this has to do with Santana, but you have to know you are the only person I would ever choose over my family. I wouldn't have even done it for myself."

There are tears in Rachel's eyes when Quinn looks, and her heart aches and aches.

" _I love you_ ," Quinn says, and she stresses each word as if they each hold significant meaning. "We have a life together, you and me. We have this amazing, sometimes trying marriage, and we have these glorious, gorgeous, sometime exhausting children. Three of them. We have _three_ children, and I love them all. I do. Of course I do. It doesn't matter whose body they've come from, or whether I was completely ready for them. Because, how could I have been? Is anyone ever truly ready for children?

"I just - I don't see why it matters that my idea of the family I maybe wanted was based on my own experience. I grew up with two parents and two children. It's what I knew, and what I convinced myself I would be most comfortable with. This isn't something I've just known; it's all something I've had to learn, and I have, Rachel. Experience is a brutal teacher, but I've learned, and I have no regrets. Not with our children, and not with you.

"I've always wanted children, and you've always known that. So we have three. So we're outnumbered. You and our children are my entire world, and if it seems I play some role, then maybe I do. Maybe it's something I feel I need to do, to keep you all happy and safe. Maybe it's the best I _can_ do, because I really don't know what I'm doing half the time. Maybe I have to put extra effort into being a wife and mother, because the examples I've had in my life haven't been all that good, and maybe I don't always get it right, but, dear God, I would move heaven and earth to be with you, and I don't know how you can look at me and all I've done in my life and not know that you are and will always be the only person for me."

Quinn doesn't even know if she's addressed whatever has Rachel so worried by the time she's finished speaking. The words just came pouring out of her, all jumbled and full of run-on sentences, and the writer in her winces at just how inarticulate she was.

She barely has a chance to look at Rachel again, before said brunette is launching herself at her, arms wrapping around her neck and toppling them both off the couch on which they sit, both landing heavily on the carpet. Rachel presses her face into Quinn's neck and holds her tight enough to hurt. Quinn can feel her tears against her skin, and it heals more than it hurts. She doesn't even know what she's done, but she must have said something right to elicit this kind of reaction.

Dr Franco allows them this moment, extending to nearly three full minutes, before a flushed Rachel rights herself and returns to her seat with a soft apology on her lips. Quinn follows a beat later, and then Dr Franco promptly gets them talking about Rachel's fathers.

It's a necessary but painful topic of discussion, and Rachel ends up in tears for an entirely different reason. This time, Quinn reaches to hold onto her closest hand, linking their fingers and talking through their options, as much as it hurts. Quinn is right here. She's not going anywhere.

In the end, they end up with a plan. They're aware of what needs to happen, and Quinn knows Rachel is going to need all the support she can give to make sure it happens.

* * *

Beca can count on one hand the number of people who would actually call her, so it's a strange sight to see a Caller ID pop up on her phone's screen unexpectedly.

Even more startling is that it's _Sheila_.

Well, no.

When she finally convinces herself to answer, she learns it's actually Aaron who's called, and her tentative greeting bursts into something genuine as he reveals himself as her mystery caller.

"Dude, does your mom know you're calling from her phone?" she asks, just so pleased to hear his voice.

"She's cooking," is his response, which isn't even an answer at all. "What are you doing?"

Beca glances around, taking in the little living area of her grandmother's place. It's comforting here, warm and homey, and there's a part of her that wishes she could stay. She just wants a place where she knows she'll be accepted for every part of her.

"Nothing much," she tells him. "Waiting for lunch. My gran is making Mac and cheese."

"Send me some," he immediately says. "Mom is making _salad_."

Beca laughs. "Dude. Gross."

"That's what I said," he says with an exaggerated sigh.

Beca figures there's a specific reason for this call, so she asks, "What are _you_ doing?"

"Ordering an _Uber_."

Beca blinks, sitting up straight and frowning. "Why on Earth are you doing that?"

"I have to go somewhere," he answers, almost too easily. "Oh, um, by the way, do you happen to know where Emma lives?"

Beca closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Aaron," she says uneasily.

"Please just tell me," he says, and his voice sounds small and a little defeated. The last thing Beca wants is to disappoint him, but she definitely can't have him gallivanting across Lima for no actual reason. "It's already started."

"What's already started?"

Aaron doesn't immediately respond, and she imagines he's trying to come up with the words to make Beca understand; to make her see how important it is for her to give him what he's asking. "The soccer clinic," he finally says. "I know it's at Emma's house, and I just need to get there, but you're not here, so can you help me or not?"

"Aaron," she says again. "You can't just catch an _Uber_ by yourself."

"Why not?"

"Well, I mean, you're nine," she points out, and she thinks it's unnecessary. "I don't even think they'd accept you. And, frankly, you could get kidnapped or something."

"How else am I supposed to get there?" he asks, voice a little high with frustration. "My mom won't ever take me, and Dad isn't even home, and I - please, Beca. _Please_."

Well, shit.

How is she supposed to argue with that tone of voice?

"Aaron," she tries again. "What do you think is going to happen when you show up there without a parent?"

It feels as if she's caught somewhere unpleasant. All she wants is to give in to him, but she needs them to be sensible. If Aaron takes off to Quinn and Rachel's and Sheila goes crazy over it; it's just going to create some kind of scandal, and that's the last thing any of them needs.

Beca just wants to make it better, but she also can't make it worse.

"It's not fair," Aaron says, and it comes out as more of a whine. "Why can't I just go? Why can't I just be with my friends? Why does it have to be such a big deal?" He lets out a sound that sounds too much like a growl. "I hate this."

Beca closes her eyes again, hating that he's experiencing such negative emotions. It's not something she wants for him, but she's too far away to be able to do something for him.

Wait.

Well, she may be in Portland, but she has people in Lima, now. People she can call on; people she can rely on. Beca doesn't ordinarily ask for favours, but she's at a stage in her life where she'll probably do just about anything for Aaron.

Somebody should.

"I don't think it's a good idea to go over to Emma's," Beca finally says, and the fact he doesn't argue proves he must realise it, too. "But, maybe I can still get you out of the house. How does that sound?"

It takes him a moment to reply, and she imagines he's trying to deal with the disappointment. She vows to try to make it up to him somehow when she gets back; even though none of it is her doing.

Sometimes, Beca hates being the voice of reason.

"Okay," he sniffles. "I'm listening."

* * *

Maria hands Rachel a plate of finger-sandwiches, simultaneously taking a sip of her lemonade. The two of them are watching the boatload of people currently occupying Quinn and Rachel's backyard through the kitchen window, an echo of a night they shared at the Giorgi home.

"Thank you so much for being here," Rachel says. "I think I would be overwhelmed, otherwise."

Maria just hums. "It's a good turnout."

"Much more than I was expecting," Rachel agrees. "I think a few of the parents are still wary of the... coaching change, but this is definitely a good idea. Expose them to Quinn's teaching style."

"And Val's," Rachel says, smiling at Maria. "Thanks for bringing him and Nick to help out."

"They wanted to come," Maria tells her. "I think they both have soccer crushes on Quinn."

Rachel can believe that much, because it's probably unlikely it's the normal kind of crush, given what she and Quinn now know.

Though, from the sound of Maria's voice, it almost seems _she_ 's aware of the distinction as well. She clears her throat. "I heard from Shelly that she's planning on moving Lloyd to the Sweet Potatoes."

Rachel sighs, expression tightening. "Well. I mean, better for us, right? Lloyd was kind of a hopeless case."

Maria lets out an unexpected laugh, snorting a little. "Poor kid."

"Maybe soccer just isn't his sport."

Maria focuses her gaze on the kids running across the lawn, balls zipping over the grass faster than she can even see. "Not like it is for Emma," she says. "Do you have plans for that? She's definitely going places."

"Quinn's the one dealing with all of that," she says. "She's ready, whenever Emma is."

"That's Joe with Val," Maria explains. "I just - I wish he would show that much interest in Christina's prospects, as well." She shifts her weight, looking as if she's trying to find the words to express her thoughts. "I get the feeling Val isn't going to want to pursue some kind of future in soccer, but Christina will, and I think it's going to break all their hearts when they all realise it."

Rachel isn't sure how to respond to that, so she doesn't try. Just rests a hand on Maria's forearm, and then offers her one of the sandwiches she still has in her possession. "I made tuna salad," she says. "I believe that's your favourite."

Maria blinks at her. "How could you possibly know that?"

"You really should be careful what you reveal on _Twitter,_ you know," Rachel quips, and Maria lets out an uncharacteristic squeak.

"You _follow_ me?" she calls out, but Rachel is already headed out of the kitchen, absently whistling to herself as she tries not to enjoy Maria's reaction too much.

She fails immensely, and she isn't even a little sad about it.

* * *

Aaron is a lot smaller than Chloe expects.

He's sitting on the front steps of the house, pouting rather aggressively, when she pulls up in her car half an hour after Beca called her with an odd request.

Strange as it was, Chloe was always going to accept.

Aaron's head snaps up when she comes to a standstill and, goodness, he's seriously so stupid tiny. Eyes bright and a little red-rimmed, mouth pulling downward and hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans; he resembles a miniature version of Beca, and Chloe is hit by how much she actually misses the brunette.

Chloe rolls down her window and waves at him, smiling her most charming smile. It takes him a moment to convince himself to approach the car, and she appreciates his wariness. Better to be safe and cautious, for sure.

"Hello, Aaron," she says brightly, studying him closely and wondering if she'll find anything else of Beca in him. "I'm Chloe," she tells him. "Beca's friend."

He still looks sceptical, a tiny crease in his brow. "Are you sure?" he asks.

"About what?"

"That you're Beca's friend," he says. "You smile way too much to be friends with Beca."

Chloe just stares for a beat, and then she bursts out laughing. "Hah, wow," she says. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

He grins at her. "Only if I get two scoops of ice-cream," he declares, moving to get into the passenger's side of the car, his wariness evaporating to nothing as he deems her acceptable.

"Play your cards right, and you might just get three."

Aaron stares at her as if she hangs the moon. " _Now_ I see why you and Beca are friends," he says, and, yeah, they're going to get on just swimmingly.

* * *

Beca receives a picture from Chloe of Aaron sitting across the booth from her, beaming with his rabbit teeth proudly on display and blue ice-cream on the tip of his nose and his chin.

The caption reads: _we're having all the fun without you_ 😝

And then a second text that immediately follows: _but we still miss you. please come back_.

Beca feels her heart both constrict and expand in her chest, wishing she was with them but still elated they're having a good time regardless of her presence. She didn't even realise how much importance she put on Aaron and Chloe liking each other, and the relief she feels is palpable.

It's just one less thing to worry about.

* * *

Steph is the one who hands Quinn her new Coach's whistle, grinning at her in a way that Quinn has come to recognise is exactly like Jesse. How trippy.

"Mom says every coach has to have one," Steph tells her. "It makes it official."

Quinn glances up to where Tessa is sitting with Rachel and Maria on the back deck, and the young woman offers her a playful two-fingered salute. "Well, thank you, Steph," she says, returning her attention to the girl in front of her. "I better get my practice in before the real thing, huh?"

"I think you're going to do great," Steph assures her, and then runs off before Quinn can respond.

For the most part, the soccer clinic has been going well. She was nervous about it, expecting only a handful of players to show up, but they have nearly an entire team in attendance, and Quinn is actually enjoying being able to impart some of her soccer knowledge on these tiny human beings who seem eager to learn.

Emma is also having the time of her life, which makes it all worth it. Quinn is so relieved that she's able to offer something towards her daughter's interests and goals and dreams. It gives her a sense of accomplishment she knows Rachel struggles for when it comes to Emma.

Though, today, Rachel also seems to be in her element. Quinn reckons Rachel misses the dinner parties they used to host in New York, so this is also providing her something of their past with all the excitement of their present.

Mia has also abandoned her shell for the time being, leaving her books inside the house and taking her role as Quinn's little assistant coach very seriously. Quinn has to stop herself from lifting her off the ground and smothering her in kisses every time she stands at attention at Quinn's side, her cap a little too big for her head and her clipboard clutched in her arms.

And Matty, well, he's loving all the attention. It's basically his mission to steal all the balls and 'hide' them behind the pool pump. As if everyone can't see them. Honestly. The minds of children.

But, really, it's the fact that Nick is here that makes Quinn's heart beat just a little faster. Quinn is very aware of him, eyes tracking his movements from the moment he arrived with Maria, Val and Christina. They shared a quick greeting before Quinn put him and Val to work, but Quinn gets the feeling Nick wants to talk. To her, specifically.

There's just this look about him; a certain tension in his shoulders, because there are secrets they know about each other, and Quinn thinks he's probably more like Rachel in that he obviously won't be able to keep going without having some kind of conversation about it.

They get the opportunity just after lunch, the children lazing about as they digest their food and excitedly chat about the upcoming remaining season. Val is occupied with cleanup, courtesy of a pointed look from Maria, and Nick seems to take the opening for what it is and moves to sit in the empty deck chair beside Quinn's.

"I didn't know," is the first thing he says, and Quinn is left to ponder that for all of a beat before he clarifies. "About you."

Quinn hums as she nods, sipping at her own lemonade. "I gathered as much, the first time we met."

"Val told me he told you about him," Nick says. "Which means you must have figured he was also talking about me." His hands shake as they rest in his lap. "Do - do you think the same thing will happen to me that happened to you?"

And, isn't _that_ the question?

Quinn doesn't have an answer for him, not really, and she knows the last thing he needs is for her to lie to him. Not about this. Not about something that will unfortunately change his life as he knows it.

What she does say is, "Lucy knows about you, and she accepts you, so I'm sure it'll work out better for you than it ever did for me."

Nick audibly swallows. "My mom - she - wasn't she - "

Quinn looks at him, sees the slope of a familiar nose and eyes that are greener than her own. "Your mom and I had a fraught relationship long before I came out," she reveals, which is true.

She and Frannie just never quite managed to recover from the fallout of Quinn's teenage pregnancy. Even before then, when Frannie left for college, she left _Lucy_ behind, and just never took the opportunity to learn about _Quinn_.

Quinn wonders if she should have tried more, but she's accepted that it wasn't all on her. _Especially_ as the younger sister. For so long, Quinn was lost and confused, and then she was alone and homeless, and Frannie didn't answer the phone when she called.

And, then, years later, after Judy's rejection over her sexuality; Quinn didn't even bother calling.

Nick fidgets in his seat. "Val wants to tell his parents," he says, voice so low that Quinn struggles to hear him. "I don't know how to tell him how anxious that makes me."

Quinn glances over his shoulder at Rachel, who is talking rather animatedly with Emma and Steph, and she feels her heart swell in her chest. "Do you know that Rachel never actually had to 'come out' to her parents?" she says, frowning a little. "It wasn't even a thing, you know? One day, I was just her friend, and the next, I was her girlfriend, and they barely blinked twice." She returns her gaze to him. "I think I would have combusted if they knew before I was able to come out myself."

"So, I'm not crazy?"

"I mean, I'm sure everyone in the world is a little crazy, but not for something like this, okay?" she assures him. "Whatever you're feeling is valid, and I get the feeling Val will understand when you explain it to him."

"Isn't it unfair to ask him to stay closeted in his own family?"

"Isn't it unfair to force an assumption about you that you're not ready for?" she counters, and they fall to silence. "I think it's something you should speak to him about. Every couple is different, and he could surprise you." She smiles softly. "So could Maria and Joe. It's amazing when you realise how much support you actually have. Gosh, it's so freeing, to know you have a place you can go; where you can just _breathe_."

The following breath he releases is shaky. "I feel like that," he confesses. "Like I can't just… be. Like I'm constantly holding my breath; worried that something I say and do is going to give me away, and I can't - I don't - "

Quinn places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. She knows that feeling too well, and she doesn't wish it on anyone. Especially not her nephew. "Whatever you're ready for, just know you and Val have a safe place here, okay?" she says.

He blinks at her. "Here?"

She nods. "In our house," she clarifies. "In our home. With us. No matter what happens."

"But - but, why would you do that?" he questions, his brow creased heavily as if he just can't understand. "They - they threw you away. Why would you help me?"

Quinn aches at the way he's put it, because it's just a verbal confirmation of what happened to her and what he must be so afraid of. "Do you know how much easier it would have been for me if I knew I had a safe place to go?" she asks, almost rhetorically. "If I couldn't have that for myself, why would I ever want that for you?"

"But you don't even know me," he points out.

"Why should that matter?"

Nick stares at her for a long moment, studying her closely, and she just sits and allows it. Then he says, "They were so wrong about you," and it shouldn't hurt as much as it does, but it's a feeling that's all to familiar to her.

* * *

"So, do you want to tell me why I basically just kidnapped you?" Chloe asks once she's pocketed her phone. She's giving Aaron her full attention now, because it's what he deserves.

Aaron doesn't answer immediately; rather just munching on his ice-cream and looking far too relaxed for a kid who basically committed a jailbreak. Whatever she expects him to say, it definitely isn't, "My parents are homophobes."

Chloe freezes, because that's -

Why would that -

Wait.

Aaron looks at her. "My best friend's parents are gay," he elaborates. "My parents don't want me to be friends with her anymore."

Chloe doesn't even know what to say in response to that, her own mind whirling at what's been revealed. It's selfish, her worry over Beca, but she can't help it. This is - it's horrific.

"I'm sorry, Aaron," she says, and she means it with her whole heart.

His entire body seems to deflate. "You don't have a problem with gay people, do you?"

It's the easiest answer she'll ever have to give. "No, I don't."

"Good," he says. "Because I like you, and I don't want not to like you."

As warming as it is to hear that; it still makes her worry, because does that mean he doesn't _like_ his parents? Beca mentioned that things were a little tense at home, but she didn't expect this to be the reason why.

She's also not allowing herself to think about Beca's reasons for not just telling her.

That's a conversation for another day, it seems.

"Does that mean you're fighting with your parents?" Chloe asks.

"Sort of," he answers. "They're just so stubborn. And stupid." He pouts again, and it really shouldn't be as adorable as it is. "I don't even understand what the big deal is. Isn't love supposed to be love? It's not like they're hurting anyone. My teacher said it's important to be tolerant, even if you don't agree."

Chloe wonders if he actually knows what that word means, but he must understand the gist of it. "Maybe they just need some time to come to the same point you are," she offers, not really believing it herself.

Aaron doesn't look as if he believes her, either. "At least Beca's on my side," he says, and then goes quiet in a way she wasn't aware a nine-year-old could.

She opts not to press him to talk, and is relieved when he does it all on his own.

"I didn't even know she existed until this year," he says, crease in his brow and eyes a little wide. "I don't even know if I would have known about her if she didn't come to live with us, and that's only because her mom passed away."

Chloe's breath catches at that, because that's news to Chloe, even if there's a part of her that's been aware that the reason Beca is even in Lima is because something terrible had to have happened. It just brings it all into stark contrast just how much she and Beca don't actually know about each other.

Chloe is guilty of willingly keeping things to herself, and she knows she doesn't want that kind of relationship - uh, friendship - with Beca.

"I wasn't sure I was going to like her," Aaron says. "But I was more scared that she wouldn't like me."

"Beca loves you," Chloe says, automatic and without thought, because she's at least sure of that much even if she's sure of little else.

Aaron's face splits into a grin. "Oh, I know," he says, actually jumping in his seat. "And it's wonderful how much she hates it."

Chloe returns his smile. "Aaron, don't tell Beca this, but I swear you're my favourite Mitchell."

Aaron laughs, and there's a lilt to it that is so much like Beca's. "I'm everyone's favourite Mitchell," he declares, and Chloe won't even bother to argue with that.

* * *

Rachel doesn't take no for an answer when she says she's fetching Beca from the airport. It's just not a thing she's willing to give up on and, bless her, Beca realises that rather quickly.

Rachel gathers Matty and Mia and heads to the airport a full hour before Beca is scheduled to land, mainly because both her children are fascinated by the planes. Matty could watch them for hours, and Mia loves being able to tell anyone she meets all the facts she knows.

It's a simple outing, and Rachel allows herself to lose herself in writing some music while Matty runs by the large glass windows and Mia chats with an elderly man about their most recent trip to the aquarium. She spares several thoughts for her wife and Emma, who are spending the day planning Quinn's upcoming practice sessions.

As reluctant as Quinn seems to commit to the role of soccer coach, she's really taken to it. And Emma is probably the happiest Rachel has ever seen her. She practically vibrates with excitement whenever the topic comes up, and Rachel has decided to enjoy this connection they have rather than worry over it.

She's hopeful she and Emma will also find their _thing_.

For now, though, she has her notebook, her pen and her babies, and it's a good way to spend her afternoon.

Which gets significantly better when Beca eventually emerges from her terminal, suitcase dragging behind her, headphones secure over her ears and an ever-present scowl on her face.

Matty goes running the second he spots her, and Rachel panics for only a moment at the thought of losing him , because Beca immediately catches sight of him and beams. _Beams_. It spreads right across her face, and Rachel is relieved she already has her phone recording the reunion, because she doesn't think Quinn believe such a thing existed otherwise.

Rachel didn't even know Beca _could_ smile like that.

If she's being honest, Beca actually looks overwhelmed by her welcoming party, and Rachel vows, in this moment, to shower this girl with all the love, affection and attention she has to spare. Next time, they'll bring an embarrassing sign to show they're hers.

She's theirs.

Does it even matter?

Rachel gives Beca a long, warm hug, and she delights in the fact Beca's return isn't at all hesitant. She hugs back just as fiercely, and Rachel allows herself to enjoy it for the anomaly it is.

"Are you hungry?" Rachel asks once they're on their way. She's taken over dragging Beca's suitcase now that Matty is secure in the teenager's arms, refusing to walk himself when he has his favourite brunette's attention.

Beca shrugs. "I could eat."

"What are you wishing for?" Rachel asks, already taking out her phone to text Quinn. "Restaurant food, or are you wishing for a home-cooked meal, because Quinn was talking about doing a leg of lamb, and I, for one, am all for it."

Beca looks at her, a hopeful grin on her face. "Will there be mashed potatoes?"

Rachel laughs, slightly overwhelmed by how much she's missed this human being. Even Mia seems taken with Beca, insisting on holding her free hand as they walk.

"There can be," Rachel confirms, dialling Quinn's number. "We might need to stop at the grocery store on the way home, though."

Beca doesn't even comment on the use of the word 'home,' and Rachel doesn't even think too much about it.

It feels right, anyway.

* * *

Chloe doesn't think too much about going over to Lucy's house to hang out until she actually gets there. She knows she's always been welcome here, but she hasn't stepped foot in this house since Patrick, and she tries not to think about the reasons why.

But, Lucy texts her, and Chloe doesn't really have anything better to do.

What Chloe happens to forget, though, is that Lucy's older brother is home for the Winter Break, and the two of them have a history of his liking her and her not being all that interested. If pressed, she would say it was because getting involved with her friend's siblings would be messy - case in point - but now she has a little bit more of an idea as to why she never quite gave him the light of day.

Andrew Grayson III is kind of a prick.

Lucy runs interference as soon as Chloe arrives, shooting down Drew before he can even open his mouth, and then drags her up the stairs to her room, allowing Chloe to pop her head into Nick's room to say hello. He waves over his shoulder, too engrossed in whatever video game he's playing, and Chloe just chuckles to herself.

"Where's Daniel?" Chloe asks once they're in Lucy's room and safely behind her closed door.

Lucy gestures to the window, and Chloe moves over to peek out into the backyard, where Daniel is kicking around a soccer ball.

"The kid is obsessed," Lucy says, throwing herself onto her bed. "There's talk of him switching teams at the start of the new year, and he's so scared he won't get to play if he's not good enough. I swear he sleeps with that dirty soccer ball."

Chloe thinks of Aaron, who is also a little obsessed, himself. "I think it's cute."

Lucy shrugs. "I guess. But the sound can get annoying after a while. I usually just pump up the music and try to forget that godforsaken sport exists."

Chloe laughs softly, and then kicks off her shoes and joins Lucy on her bed. They lie side by side, looking up the ceiling, and Chloe feels herself relax. "How was your Christmas, by the way?" she asks.

Lucy chuckles, mostly to herself. "It was all right, thank you," she says. "Kind of strange, if I'm honest. We went to my dad's parents' place, and he has a massive family, and we kind of get lost in all of that, you know?"

Chloe doesn't really know, but she still hums to show she's listening.

"Church was... weird," Lucy says. "I mean, they kind of talk about all the people we've lost and all the babies that have been born, and I - " her voice falters, and her head turns to look at Chloe, who is keeping her gaze firmly elsewhere. "Do you ever talk about him?" Lucy asks, and Chloe closes her eyes.

Chloe doesn't know how to answer that.

"I miss him, Chlo," Lucy says; "and I've tried so hard to give you space, but I - I don't have anyone else to talk to about this."

"About what?"

"About the fact I have this new boy in my life, and I can't stand the thought I'm betraying Patrick by falling in love with Nate."

Chloe feels her heart lurch in her chest, and she immediately rolls onto her side, eyes opening to look at Lucy's apprehensive expression. "Oh, Luce," she says. "You are definitely not betraying Patrick by loving someone else."

Like her parents, Chloe has studiously avoided talking about Patrick with anyone, and at all. The only time she's willingly brought him up is with Dr Fabray, and even that was amidst some kind of breakdown and under duress. She doesn't know if she can do this for Lucy, but she'll try.

"How can you say that?" Lucy asks, and she suddenly sounds distressed. "It hasn't even been a year, Chloe. How - how is that okay?"

"There is no timeline on grief," Chloe says, and it's the truest thing she's said all day.

Lucy looks a little helpless as she lies there, practically pleading with Chloe for some kind of absolution.

Chloe can give her at least that, if nothing else.

"My brother was an idiot," Chloe says. "Like, a straight-up, complete and utter idiot. He made some of the worst decisions, always took the easy way out, and I'm convinced he would have given up dancing if he didn't land as many girls as he did."

Lucy manages a smile, because Chloe is obviously right.

"Honestly, I still don't see what you ever saw in him," Chloe says, and her voice sounds fond. It feels like _before_ , when she could tease him and he could tease her.

Before the injury. Before the end of his promising career.

Before the breakup.

"But you are the best thing that ever happened to him," Chloe says. "He loved you very much, Luce, and I know you know that. I - sometimes, I like to forget those last two months even happened. My favourite memory of him is at the showcase. His smile that night, God, it was blinding."

Lucy rolls onto her side as well, curling her body and looking right into Chloe's eyes. "It was," she whispers. "I remember." She sighs. "That night, he told me he was going to marry one day."

"Would have been the smartest thing he ever did."

Lucy closes her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Chlo; do you think it's my fault?"

"No."

Her eyes open. "How can you say that?" she asks. "I broke up with him. When he needed me the most."

"He was a complete asshole to you," Chloe says. "I'm surprised you stayed as long as you did."

"I just - I wanted him to get over it," Lucy says. "There was so much more for him. But then - "

But then, instead of Patrick finding something else beyond the end of his dancing career; he just found the end.

"I think there are many factors that led to what Patrick did," Chloe says. "You know as well as I do that there was a darkness lurking, and he hid it behind a bumbling personality and easy smiles." She looks away. "I think I could have done more to help, too. I remember those days, just hoping he would snap out of it and come back to us, but - "

Chloe can hear Daniel's ball outside, and she zeroes in on it. Just needing something on which to focus.

"But he was already on a path to somewhere we would never be able to follow," Chloe quietly says. "You and I can both agonise over what we did or didn't do, but that's going to change nothing, Lucy, and we both know it's not something he would want for us."

Lucy's mouth opens to speak, but it closes a beat later.

"And, Patrick would have liked Nate," Chloe says. "They totally would have bonded over their love of _Star Wars_." She grins. "You have a thing for nerds, don't you?"

"Shut up."

"Patrick would want you to be happy," Chloe says.

Lucy meets her gaze. "I think I already knew all these things," she says. "I just needed to hear someone else say them." Her hand reaches out to hold one of Chloe's, squeezing gently. "Do you need the same thing from me?" she asks. "Do you need someone to tell you it's okay to allow yourself to be happy?"

Chloe probably does, yes, but she's not quite ready to hear it.

* * *

Beca doesn't mean to stare, but there is something both sinful and adorable about the way Quinn and Rachel look at each other.

It makes Beca ache.

As promised, Quinn is making her favourite mashed potatoes, and Beca can't wait. It feels special; sacred in a way that's unexpected and so, so wanted. The fact they would even try to make her feel this welcome hits her hard, and she tries not to think about it too much. She's already emotional enough.

She's settled into the workings of the Berry-Fabray family far too easily, and it makes her ache even more. And, it isn't even just Quinn and Rachel. It's the children as well.

Matty is her baby boy, really, and she can't get over how much she already loves him. Mia is steady; calm in a way that Beca can relate to. And Emma is a perfect blend of Quinn and Rachel; passionate and empathetic and so stupidly talented.

"Ten minutes, tops," Quinn calls out, and Beca's head snaps up. "Bec, don't you want to help me set the table?"

Beca sees it for what it is, and she gets to her feet immediately, abandoning watching Emma, Rachel and Mia play a game of _UNO_. Quinn wants to talk, and it's honestly kind of cute the way she's going about it.

It's while she's placing table mats that Quinn says, "So, I just wanted to check in," in the kind of voice that does nothing to quell the growing ache in Beca's chest. "See how you're doing. Ask about Portland. We - we missed you."

Beca preens at the slight blush in Quinn's cheeks. "You missed me, huh?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Just tell me about your trip, twerp," she mutters, reaching for the pile of plates to set them out.

"It was good," Beca says, and she finds that she means it. "I didn't realise how much I needed to see my gran until I saw her."

"Family is important," Quinn says, voice low.

"Family is family, whatever," Beca says. "But I think it's the fact she accepts me for me that made it important for me to see her."

"You guys had a talk then?"

"She had a girl, back in the day," Beca tells her, eager to divulge the information.

"Was this before or after Elvis?" Quinn asks with a grin. Then a gasp. "Or _during_?"

Beca laughs. "Gross."

Quinn points to the tray of glasses, prompting Beca to keep working.

"But, yeah, we talked about it a bit," she says. "I - I told her about you."

"Just me?"

"And Rachel," Beca clarifies. "The kids, too. It's just, you know, you guys are an important part of my life here, and she has to know that it's not all doom and gloom."

Quinn smiles at her. "I'm glad we can give that to you," she says. "Also, feel free to give your gran our numbers, if ever she needs to get a hold of us, okay?"

Beca eyes her. "Promise you won't rat on me?"

Quinn just grins at her.

"Promise me, Quinn," Beca says, voice a little high.

Quinn says, "Get the jug of water from the kitchen," and just manages to dodge when Beca throws a napkin at her.

* * *

It's during dinner that things get... awkward.

Chloe knows Lucy's father from around town. Andrew Grayson Jr, or AJ, is tall and broad and a former football player turned car salesman. She likes him, in that way that he's a 'cool dad,' but she doesn't know him that well.

So, it's a surprise to her when he asks her about how her cheerleading is going. It takes her a moment to realise he's probably just fishing for information on Dr Fabray, and she chances a look at Lucy, whose own eyes are a little wide.

Because, as far as this family is aware, Chloe doesn't know there's any relation to Dr Fabray.

Chloe clears her throat. "Oh, um, it's good," she says. "We're also through to Regionals, like the Timberwolves."

"That's great," he says, and his teeth are so white. She can't quite get a read on him in this moment. "Luce mentioned you have a new coach."

Nick clears his throat, and Fran looks as if she's ready to murder her husband.

"We do," Chloe confirms. "She's intense. I don't think I've been this fit in my life."

"We can tell," Drew comments, and Lucy elbows him in the ribs.

Chloe shakes her head at their antics, choosing to be amused. "I mean, she's also my English teacher, so she's not intense all the time. I like her. She's cool."

Nick lifts his head. "She is cool, yeah."

Chloe looks at him, surprised. "You've met her?"

He nods. "My best friend is kind of family friends with them," he explains, a little vague, and Chloe is tuned in enough to know there's probably something more to it. One look at Lucy's face confirms it. "But, uh, Lucy's also met her," Nick adds, and all eyes shift to her.

Lucy shrugs. "At the cheerleading Sectionals," she says.

Fran frowns. "You didn't mention it," she says, voice tinged with accusation.

Lucy glares a little. "Yes, well, I was just learning from you," she says, a certain edge to her voice. "We don't _mention_ people in this house."

"Lucy," AJ says, voice firm, and Lucy backs down.

Chloe keeps her gaze on her plate, wondering if it would be more awkward if she didn't actually know what was going on. Like, if she didn't know about the relation and the background behind the disjoint family; what would she be thinking in this moment?

The silence that follows is tense, and Chloe focuses on her food and prays someone says something to ease the crackling in the atmosphere.

Thankfully, Daniel says, "Do I _have_ to eat these green beans?"

Chloe chuckles and Lucy runs a hand over Daniel's head with a smile on her face. "I'm afraid so, Kid," Lucy says. "You want to be fast enough to beat all those defenders, don't you?"

Daniel grumbles under his breath, but he dutifully eats his vegetables.

Nick nudges him with his elbow. "You better start liking beansprouts, anyway," he says with a telling wink, and Daniel beams at him.

Chloe tosses a confused look at Lucy, who just shrugs and mouths the word, _Soccer_. Chloe has no idea what vegetables have to do with soccer, but she does really get the opportunity to ask.

Drew doesn't let her.

It's a strange thing, suddenly being so aware of herself. The words she said to Lucy earlier ring in her head as she, Lucy, Nick and Drew settle in the den to watch whatever movie Nick can find on television that they deem suitable.

It's not even that Drew is bad - he's quite likeable when he's not acting like a straight, white male - it's that Chloe suddenly knows exactly what she wants.

 _Who_.

It's not Tom, and it's definitely not Drew.

It's Beca, and accepting it makes her heart race and her face flush. Lucy casts a curious look her way, and Chloe smiles shakily.

"Do you need to hear it now?" Lucy asks in a whisper meant for only her, successfully reading her revelation.

Chloe nods. "I think I'm ready, yeah."

* * *

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, Bec." Quinn hums a little as she navigates the streets, following her GPS towards Beca's house. She thinks she should probably learn the route, just in case she needs to perform some kind of rescue mission in the unknown future.

"Will you come with me to pick up my car?" Beca asks. "Please."

Quinn's heart stutters in her chest. "Of course," she answers, because there was never another option. "You just tell me when and I'll be there, okay?"

"Okay," Beca says, voice quiet. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Beca," Quinn says, and they both know she means it.

* * *

"Brittany mentioned it'd probably be a good idea to give you guys some space."

Quinn doesn't mean to stiffen at the sound of the words, but it happens, and Santana definitely notices. Quinn hasn't been able to get much past her over the years.

"Is everything okay?" Santana asks. "Do I need to beat someone up? Is it your family?"

Quinn sighs, a little heavy and defeated. "No, it's not them," she says. "Rach and I are just going through something, I guess."

"Is this like the seven-year itch, except times two?"

"What?"

"You've been married fourteen years," Santana points out, looking at Quinn as if she's dumb.

"No," Quinn says with a tired smile. "It's nothing like that. Believe me, I can barely keep my hands off her."

Santana wrinkles her nose. "Gross."

Quinn laughs, because that reaction reminds her too much of Beca not to take joy in it. "It's definitely not my fault my wife is so hot."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Just, is this something I can help with?" she asks, and Quinn appreciates everything this woman has done for her since graduation from high school.

She tries not to think too hard about the years before that; where they both struggled in their own ways to accept themselves and it manifested in some ugly interactions. Rachel and Brittany forced them all into a dual couple's therapy session, and Quinn wonders if Rachel won't try to engineer another one given everything that's happened recently.

"You're doing it," Quinn says.

"By kidnapping your children?"

Quinn smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter in her own home. "I just think going to this party will be good for us," she says. "Get Rachel's mind off her fathers and Beca and my retreat. Just enjoy herself for one night."

Santana grins at her. "Look at you two: going to fancy parties and shit." Her eyes take in the dress Quinn is currently adorning. "Is that what you're wearing?"

Quinn takes in her own outfit with raised eyebrows, hearing something specific in Santana's tone. "Um, yes. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Santana says, but it sounds like _something_. "Just, you know, who are you trying to impress?"

Quinn sputters. "What? Nobody." She looks down again, uncertain. "Is it too much?"

"Babe," Santana says, surprisingly patient. "What's going on?"

Quinn puffs out a breath. "Frannie is supposed to be there tonight," she admits. "As yet, I'm still not sure how to feel about possibly running into her?"

Santana nods in understanding. "Have you had any direct contact with her since the move?"

"Nope," Quinn answers. "Though, I've had significant interaction with two of her children, Lucy and Nick."

Santana blinks. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Quinn shrugs, because there's a part of her that's past caring about what it looks like. She's their aunt, and she's already missed out on so much. If they want to know her, then Quinn is going to let them.

"Well, I mean, how are they?" Santana asks. "What are they like?"

"They're pretty great, actually," Quinn tells her. "Lucy's a senior, interested in journalism and curious by nature." She smiles, soft and knowing. "And Nick, he's so… gentle. I don't know how to describe it, but there's this old soul quality to him that is just _so cool_."

Santana eyes her for a moment. "You know, I was worried," she says. "When you told me you guys were moving back here, I know I didn't handle it well - "

"You said we were making a mistake," Quinn reminds her, and Santana winces.

"Right, well, we both haven't had good experiences in Lima, and I didn't want to see all the hard work you put into building yourself beyond this place go to waste," she says. "Which is why I was worried."

"And now?"

"I don't think you were making a mistake at all," she says. "I think, despite everything, this is the place you and Rachel needed to be."

Quinn doesn't _need_ to hear Santana say it to be able to believe it, but it certainly helps.


	15. Chapter 15

**XV**

The Giorgi house is almost unrecognisable.

The first thing Quinn realises, once their car has been valet parked and they've entered through the front door, is that the house is spotless. Cleaned to the point that she's sure she can see her reflection in the shiny floor, polished as it is.

The house is also full of people.

The lighting is dim, chandeliers at a low setting, and there's an actual live band playing jazz in the front room that has Rachel buzzing from the moment she hears them.

Rachel leans into Quinn once they've removed their coats and started making their way further into the house. "Can I get drunk?" she asks.

Quinn laughs. "Go for it, my love."

Rachel squeezes her forearm, and then leads the way in search of Maria or Joe. They just want to greet the hosts before they start on the alcohol, at least. Maybe mingle. That's good etiquette, right? There are many people neither of them knows here; a circle that they've only just been invited into.

Honestly, when Maria extended the invitation, Quinn was worried. Rachel even mentioned to the woman that it probably wouldn't reflect well having them there, but Maria claimed not to care, and Quinn just witnessed yet another person giving into Rachel's unwitting charms.

"She put the books away," Rachel comments as they move through the house, eyes scanning the nearly-empty bookshelves.

Quinn feigns hurt. "I'm wounded," she says, dramatically clutching at her heart. "Could it be that Maria Giorgi is embarrassed to be seen reading Lucy Quinn?"

Rachel giggles. "The secret life of _MamaGiorgi_ , Twitter user."

Quinn snickers. "Gosh, you have way too much fun trolling her, don't you?"

"It is my sworn duty to point out the grammatical errors in her tweets, Quinn," Rachel says, an air of superiority in her tone. "Better it be me. It's a cross I must bear."

"Oh, my God."

Rachel just grins at her, and Quinn is so relieved she seems to be having a good time. There's mischief in her eyes, and Quinn thinks she's beautiful like this.

Well, she's beautiful always, but especially like this.

"There they are," a voice suddenly says, and they both turn towards Joe, who is beaming at them as he moves through a small crowd. It makes something warm bloom in Quinn's chest, because these are their people and they're unafraid to show it. "You made it."

"Sorry if we're late," Rachel says, allowing Joe to kiss her cheek in greeting. "The party looks well underway."

"Nonsense," he assures them, greeting Quinn next. "This thing is going until at least two o'clock in the morning. Gotta pace ourselves." His head swivels from side to side. "Maria should be around here somewhere. She's been going non-stop; it's hard to pin her down."

Just then, as if summoned, Maria appears in a huff. Her left hand lands on Rachel's arm. "Thank God you're here," she says, only slightly panicked. "I need your help with something." And then she's tugging Rachel away, throwing a wave at Quinn in greeting.

Quinn blinks, and then looks at Joe, who shrugs.

"What did I say?" he says. "She's there, and then she's not. I think the caterers messed up something, but it's probably safer for us not to get involved. Come, let me get you a drink, introduce you to a few people."

Quinn decides just to go with it. For now, her wife is goodness knows where, and Joe is familiar.

He's also a little shit.

Every introduction is something new. _High school teacher, soccer coach, university professor, potato au gratin expert_. At least he keeps her hand occupied with champagne.

Quinn meets people she should probably know, but everyone is a stranger. If any of them recognise the Fabray surname, they must chalk it up to coincidence. Because, as far as Quinn is aware, she and her family are the only ones who even use the surname in Lima.

Russell abandoned the town years ago. Judy is back to her maiden name, and Frannie and her children bear the surname Grayson.

The thought is sobering, and Quinn excuses herself while Joe is in the middle of a story about golf to a few of his buddies. She just needs a moment, and she thinks it's a good time to check in on their children.

Quinn turns a corner and enters another room, champagne warming a little in her hand. She wants to text rather than call; just to make sure Santana isn't actually corrupting the little Berry-Fabrays, but she doesn't get the chance to, because she comes face-to-face with Lucy Grayson instead.

Who _beams_ at her.

"Quinn," Lucy says, eyes bright, and Quinn suspects she's been sneaking some of the _champers_ herself. "You're here."

"So are you," Quinn says, amused. "Happy New Year, Lucy."

Lucy's smile gets impossibly wider. "I'm glad you're here," she says. "I actually wanted you to meet someone."

Quinn can't help the flash of uncertainty she feels, but she relaxes when she sees Lucy gesture to someone behind her, and a young man makes his way towards them.

"This is Nate," Lucy tells her. "My, uh, yeah, my boyfriend."

Quinn's eyebrows rise, and Lucy flushes.

"We're newly official," Lucy explains. "Still getting used to the official title."

"I, for one, am loving it," Nate says, holding out his hand. "I'm Nathan Anderson," he says, smile almost as wide as Lucy's. "You must be Aunt Quinn."

Quinn, admittedly, feels a little sucker-punched at the monicker. Is that how Lucy refers to her when she talks about her? Gosh. Quinn sips at her champagne, and delights in the increased blush in Lucy's cheeks.

"That would be me," Quinn says, shaking his hand. His grip is firm, confident, and there's just something familiar about him. He's tall and brunette, dressed impeccably in a form-fitting suit and bow tie. His eyes are brown, intelligent and playful and so similar to -

Quinn blinks. "You wouldn't happen to know a Blaine Anderson, would you?"

Nate startles. "Oh. Yeah. He's my uncle."

Quinn laughs softly. "Tiny world, huh?" she murmurs. "Cooper's son?"

"You know my father?"

"We've met a handful of times," she says. "Blaine and I went to high school together."

Lucy can't help her laugh, either. "The tiniest world."

Nate nods. "I'll have to ask him about it next time we speak," he says. "We were disappointed they couldn't make it Stateside for Christmas."

Quinn hums in understanding, because Rachel pouted about it for four hours when Kurt confirmed he, Blaine and their twin boys were going to be staying in London for the holiday season.

"The West End keeps them busy," Quinn says, sighing. "So, I've met your father and uncle, which really begs me to ask the question: are the musical genes running strong in you too?"

Nate lets out a laugh, and it's Lucy who says, "Goodness, no, he can't hold a tune to save his life."

"Hey," Nate protests, but he's still laughing. "I'm not that bad."

"Your cat bolts from the room whenever you sing, Nate," Lucy points out.

"Dumbo's just skittish," he counters, and Quinn watches them with a soft smile. This is good. She wants this for them. "I'm really not that bad," he insists.

"He's terrible," Lucy tells Quinn. "It's why he's chosen to pursue other interests."

Quinn looks at Nate expectantly. "Dare I ask if it's journalism, too?" she asks.

"Not quite," he says. "Law School, actually. That's the plan, anyway."

"He has political aspirations," Lucy adds, smiling proudly. "We're going to be one of those power couples. I'll uncover all the injustices, and he's going to work on policies to ensure they never happen again."

Quinn looks between them. "Let me guess… Princeton?"

The blushes that bloom on both their cheeks shouldn't make her feel as chuffed as she does, but she can't help it.

Lucy clears her throat. "Is it so wrong to want to be together?"

"Of course not," Quinn says, still smiling. "Just make sure it's actually what you _both_ want, because it won't be fun waking up one morning and realising you made the decision for the other person and not for yourself. It can be toxic."

Lucy blinks. "Did that happen to you?" she asks.

Quinn shakes her head. "My freshman roommate," she clarifies. "Picked Yale for her boyfriend, and hated every second of it. Ended up transferring to MIT sophomore year, after a pretty nasty breakup."

Lucy blinks again, and then looks at Nate. "You actually want Princeton, right?" she asks, so serious despite the glassiness of her eyes.

Nate says, "Almost as much as I want you," with a charming smile, and even Quinn is sold.

"Good," Lucy says with a nod. "That's settled."

Quinn chuckles. "Good," she echoes. "Because long-distance can be draining, and that _is_ coming from personal experience." She shakes her head. "Although, I don't know if you could call a two-hour train ride long distance, but it felt like we were miles apart sometimes."

"I don't think I could handle that," Lucy says. "I'm self-confessed clingy."

Nate puffs out his cheeks. "Which, let me just say, I _love_."

"Because you love me," Lucy says, eyes on his face.

"Indeed I do," he confirms, and Quinn hears something specific in their words. As if the expression of affection is new to them. There's more of a story there, she suspects, but she'll let Lucy tell her if she wants to.

Quinn allows them their moment, and then almost drops her glass of champagne when she feels a familiar hand on the small of her back. She turns to find Rachel at her side, looking a little cautious about interrupting.

"Hey," Quinn says, smiling down at her. "Come meet Lucy."

Rachel steps closer to Quinn, eyes on the two teenagers.

"Rachel, this is Lucy Grayson, my niece, and Nathan Anderson, her newly-official boyfriend." Both teenagers laugh at her words. "Nate, Lucy, this is Rachel Berry-Fabray, my lovely wife."

For a beat, there's just silence.

Then Nate says, "Holy shit," a little too loudly. "You're Rachel Berry?"

Three confused gazes settle on him.

"Like, the Rachel Berry who moonlights as Be - "

Both Rachel and Quinn raise their hands to stop him from saying another word, eyes wide in something like panic.

"How could you possibly know that?" Rachel asks at the same time Quinn says, "I'm going to kill Blaine."

Rachel looks at Quinn, brow furrowed. "What does Blaine have to do with this?"

"Nate is Blaine's nephew," Quinn explains.

Understanding settles over Rachel's features. "Oh, I am _so_ going to kill him," she declares.

Nate raises his hands in innocence. "In his defence," he says; "I can be annoyingly persistent. And convincing. Future lawyer here, remember?"

Quinn has words to say in response, but they get stuck in her throat when a slightly-older couple approaches them, expressions unreadable, but Quinn knows exactly who they are.

Frannie and AJ.

Quinn freezes, Lucy tenses, Rachel stiffens and Nate just looks as if he would rather be anywhere else.

Well.

Happy New Year, everybody.

* * *

 **Chloe** : _Any New Year resolutions?_

She should probably be paying more attention to the party going on around her, but she's focused on her phone. On _Beca_ , who is warmly tucked away at home, pretending to hate that she's stuck babysitting Aaron while their parents are at a party.

 **Beca** : _I don't really believe in those things. They never last_.

 **Beca** : _Do you have any?_

The thing is Chloe _does_. She's told herself she's going to be more open this year, and she's going to start with Beca. And Aubrey, probably. She can tell that Aubrey has noticed the distance, but she's too stubborn to say anything about it.

They both are.

 **Chloe** : _I want to stop hiding so much of myself. I want the people around me to know me. All of me_.

It takes Beca a full two minutes to respond, and Chloe has to force herself not to down the entire contents of the red solo cup in her hand.

 **Beca** : _Do I count as one of these people?_

Chloe almost types, _you're top of the list_ , but she forces herself to be cool.

_Stay chill, Beale. Seriously. Do you want to send her running?_

Chloe likes that Beca asks questions that are both simple and complicated. The answer is easy enough, but the implications are far-reaching.

Chloe takes a deep breath, preparing herself to show at least some of her cards, but a human body bumps into her, and her phone tumbles to the ground.

Of course.

And, of course, it's Tom. With another cheerleader practically hanging off him.

"Oh, hey, Chloe," he says, words a little slurred. "Didn't see you there. Sorry about that."

Chloe just bends to retrieve her phone, checking for any dents or cracks. At least it didn't land in a puddle of alcohol, because that would have been gross.

"All good, Tom," Chloe eventually says, smiling at him.

If it sounds as if she's referring to something else, then she probably is. He's handsome, sweet and _there_ , but Chloe knows what she wants now, and that isn't Tom.

He blinks at her. "Yeah?"

Chloe nods, eyes flicking to Keisha beside him for a moment. "Yeah, Tom," she says; "all good."

It feels liberating, watching him smile lopsidedly at her, and then turn and walk away. It's a relief, heavy with meaning but light with the possibilities of things to come.

With a small smile, she opens her message thread to Beca again. They have plans to hang out in the New Year, and she honestly can't wait. She wants to be this new Chloe; who doesn't keep secrets. Who lives a life Patrick would want her to.

 **Chloe** : _You're definitely on the list_.

It's just, well, intentions are one thing, and Chloe's all too aware things are much easier said than done.

* * *

Rachel has never actually met Frannie.

Sure, she's seen a handful of pictures of the woman when she was younger, from the few photographs Quinn was able to keep, but this is the first time Rachel can say she's met her wife's sister.

Frannie is wholly underwhelming.

Maybe it's just that she's a whole inch shorter than Quinn, but there's something about her that seems understated. Less than expected, and Rachel wonders if it's all just an act, or if Frannie is really a subdued version of all the people around her, who all just seem more vibrant and colourful.

Because Lucy has an undeniable energy in every part of her body and a certain mischievous glint in her eye. From the look on her face, she's suddenly up to something, and she proves it when she says, "Mom, Dad, meet Quinn Berry-Fabray, and her wife, Rachel Berry-Fabray." She smiles innocently, eyes sharp and defiant in a way that must be a Fabray trait. "Quinn, Rachel, these are my parents, AJ and Fran Grayson." She meets her father's gaze, deeply unapologetic. "Quinn is the woman you were asking Chloe about the other night."

The words strike a cord in the space among them, and Quinn reaches blindly for Rachel's hand, immediately finding she has it there, waiting to provide the support for which she's silently asking.

To his credit, the man introduced as AJ recovers quite quickly from his daughter's unexpected introduction, slapping a smile that is obviously fake on his face. "Ah, of course," he says, holding out a hand. "The new cheerleading coach for the Cheerios."

Quinn's expression tightens as she shakes his hand, because, though there's nothing wrong with the job she's doing, the way he says it makes her skin crawl. As if her job is _less_ when every job is important. It just stings that bit more because she's accomplished a lot more than that in her life.

Still, Quinn can play games if he's going to, and she suspects she'd be better at it. "You know," she says, eyes narrowing as she grips his hand firmly. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

Lucy looks at Rachel with wide eyes hinting at her awe and disbelief, because Quinn is such a G.

AJ shifts his weight, and Rachel can't stop her smile at just how uncomfortable he looks. It's surprisingly a common facial expression whenever Quinn is around, mainly because she has way too much fun unsettling people with her general person.

Just ask the other soccer moms.

Quinn releases his hand, and Rachel gets to watch the moment Quinn actually acknowledges her sister for the first time in more than two decades. Truth be told, Rachel doesn't know what to expect, but they end up looking at each other as if they're strangers.

Which is what they are, and it is a painful realisation for them all.

Lucy clears her throat. "Wow," she says; "this is totally a lot more painful than I thought it would be." She looks at her parents. "Did you come over here for a reason, or did you just want to make it awkward for all of us?"

"Lucy," Frannie says, and just the sound of the name from her mouth seems to _do something_ to Quinn. It doesn't matter at whom the name is directed, because Quinn goes worryingly still.

It's sudden, the way she basically shuts down, walls slamming up, and they all see it happen, unable to stop it. Quinn turns to Rachel. "I - I have to - I can't - "

Rachel nods just once, releasing Quinn's hand, and then she's gone, slipping out of the room as if she was never there in the first place. If they thought it was awkward before, it's even more so when Quinn vanishes from sight.

For a moment, Rachel contemplates going after her, but she knows her wife well enough to know she'll want her space. She'll find her in a little while.

Right now, she's looking at Frannie and wondering how this unsuspecting woman could have so much power over her wife and not even know it. The whole of Frannie as a person is not what Rachel expected, especially when she knows this woman is meant to be a divorce attorney.

Or practice Family Law.

Something.

Whatever.

Rachel doesn't even care. What she does care about, though, is that this couple seems to have come over to them for a reason, and now that reason has fled the scene.

Quinn admitted to being confused about what her mother wants from her, and Rachel gets the same feeling about Frannie. What _do_ they want? Do _they_ even know?

"What do you want?" She thinks she surprises them all when she asks the question, but she doesn't regret it, because she needs to know, as much for Quinn as for herself. "Seriously. What do you want? From her? From us? Because it's confusing, and she doesn't know how to handle it, so if you could just be clear with your intentions, that would really help." Her eyes move between Frannie to her husband, and then back to Frannie. "So, just tell me, what do you want?"

The resulting silence is uncomfortable, but Frannie finally breaks it when she says, "I don't know," and it's probably the truest statement Rachel could have hoped to hear.

Rachel hums. "You should probably figure it out," she says; "because she's just confused enough that she might actually be willing to listen to whatever you want to say."

"I'm sorry," Frannie says, and the words are rushed; practically blurted. They're also clearly not what Frannie means to say. "God, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sure you are," Rachel says, and her eyes are narrow. "Because, now, we all have to live life knowing we have family just walking around out there that don't even _know_ us."

Her own words spark an unfamiliar ache in her heart for some unknown reason, and she quickly excuses herself, leaving Lucy to deal with her parents.

She has a wife to track down, anyway.

* * *

 **Beca** : _Aaron's trying to convince me to GO OUT to get pizza when we can just order in like normal people._

 **Beca** _: God. Fucking extroverts_.

Chloe giggles to herself, huddled in a corner of the living room of Bumper's house. She's aware she's being anti-social, but Beca is a lot more interesting than whatever debauchery is currently going on around her. High school students can be kind of disgusting.

 **Chloe** : _You're going to give in, aren't you?_

 **Beca** : _Have you SEEN his pout? Those puppy-dog eyes should be illegal. We're just lucky his parents actually left us with a car because it might be impossible to get an Uber tonight_.

 **Chloe** : _Either way, you're brave, going out on New Year's Eve_.

If she's going to be honest, Chloe actually wants to join them, wherever they're going, but she doesn't know how to ask for something like that. Is that pushing it? Is she even allowed to ask for something like that, given the types of friends they are? Or aren't. It's confusing.

 **Beca** : _Not brave. Just a sucker for Aaron's ridiculously cute face. I just want to sleep_.

 **Chloe** : _Beca, it's barely nine o'clock_.

 **Beca** : _I'm tired, Chloe. I've yawned like four times in the last minute. My bed is calling my name_.

 **Chloe** : _But Aaron wants pizza, Beca_.

 **Beca** : _I KNOW_.

 **Beca** : _THE LITTLE SHIT_.

Chloe smiles down at her screen, heart beating a little faster than normal in her chest. Her body feels warm and light, but she can't be certain it's just to do with the alcohol.

It's Beca.

It's definitely Beca.

There's really no other feasibly explanation for this feeling.

She's in the middle of composing a reply when a shadow falls over her, and she looks up at Aubrey and -

Wait.

Is that Sian?

She recently had a haircut, from the look of things, and Chloe's smile grows, because it looks awesome.

Aubrey plops onto the ground beside Chloe. "Sian and I have been bonding over how flighty our best friends are," she explains. "Apparently, Lucy's at some fancy party tonight, and you've been glued to your phone all night." She huffs. "Who are you talking to, anyway?"

Chloe definitely isn't going to answer that with the truth. "I'm trying to figure out if I should order a pizza," she tells Aubrey instead, giggling when Sian drops to the ground on her other side at the sound of food.

"Please do it," Sian says, groaning. "I'm fucking starving."

Chloe shifts to a different app on her phone, and scrolls through the menu of her favourite pizza parlour. "What do we want?"

"Can't go wrong with pepperoni," Sian comments.

Chloe looks at Aubrey. "Any objections?"

"Extra cheese."

"Not an objection, but okay." She places the order, inputting Bumper's address, and then sighs. "They say forty to fifty minutes."

"Ugh," Sian says. "They're probably busy."

"We should just keep drinking," Aubrey says, not bothering to move from where her head is now resting on Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe presses a kiss to her hair before she looks at Sian, who is watching her curiously. "I like your hair," she says, trying not to stare. It really is very cool, and Chloe is at least unafraid to tell her as much.

Sian runs a hand over her undercut, feeling the little hair prick her fingers. "Not too stereotypical, is it?"

Chloe blinks in confusion. "What?"

Sian grins at her. "You're cute, Chloe," she says. "Just, you know, if the flannel doesn't work; then the haircut will."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sian's smile grows. "You really don't, do you?"

It's Aubrey who says, "She's a lesbian, Chloe," with just enough inflection to sound as if Chloe doesn't already know that.

Chloe frowns, even if her body goes stiff at the ease with which Aubrey makes the declaration. "I know that," she says. "Is - is an undercut lesbian culture or something?"

Sian shrugs. "Kind of," she says. "I mean, we don't monopolise it or anything, but it's more common than on straight girls, as far as I'm aware."

Chloe considers it. She's aware of flannel and cuffed jeans. Uh, _Converse_? Now an undercut. What else?

"What else is there?" Chloe asks, trying to sound mildly curious and not too interested.

Sian leans back against the wall, recrossing her legs. "There's a thing about how we don't know how to sit properly," she says with a small chuckle. "Which I'll admit to. I can't say I know how to sit in a chair."

Chloe laughs softly, thinking of her own self. She's pretty sure she sits properly, right? What about Beca?

Chloe stops that thought as soon as it hits, because one step at a time and all that, and the last thing she needs to spark hope she's not ready for.

"We also all drive a _Subaru_ or a _Jeep Wrangler_ ," Sian adds.

Aubrey raises her head. "Hey, I drive a _Jeep Wrangler_ ," she says, her lips in a pout.

"You're practically one of us," Sian almost sings.

Aubrey shrugs. "Well, there are worse things to be," she quietly says, returning to her position against Chloe's shoulder.

" _Right_ ," Sian says, suddenly indignant. "I mean, people lose their shit over us all the time, when there are people - no, no, _children_ \- who are literally starving to death all over the world. Why not spend your energy saving human beings from human rights violations instead of trying to police the way I love. I mean, what bullshit is that?"

"Total bullshit," Aubrey agrees.

Sian huffs, her gaze meeting Chloe's for a moment. "I first cut my hair when I initially figured it out," she confesses, and this is really the first time Chloe and Sian have even talked about this. Chloe wasn't there for the coming out. She doesn't even know if Sian's family are accepting. "I don't really know why, but I felt... Disjointed with all the long hair, so I just cut it to that bob. I don't know if you remember."

Chloe nods, because she _does_ remember.

"Like, my identity just shifted, and I couldn't get a handle on myself," Sian elaborates. "I did a lot of reading, and they mentioned something about reestablishing yourself beyond your previously-straight self, so I cut my hair to try to fit into this new version of myself I was trying to be; to fit into my new community."

Chloe wonders if she'll ever be brave enough to find her own community.

"I can't say it really helped, but it gave me perspective. It still took me a while to get comfortable with myself," Sian says. "So, I let my hair grow out again, fell in love with flannel and realised I'm pretty good with my hands."

Chloe flushes at the sound of those words, even though she's sure Sian doesn't mean it the way Chloe's taken it.

"I think it's important to allow yourself the time to adjust," Sian says. "It takes a while to settle into yourself once you realise what society expects of you isn't who you're meant to be, and it's difficult to align those two ideals. I think the worst thing people can do is rush. It's important to be kind to yourself. So, _now_ , I have an undercut, and I'm pretty sure I look fucking hot."

Chloe can't figure what about her actions tonight have resulted in Sian opening up this way, but she's trying not to think about it too much.

Regardless of where it's all come from; they're all words she realises she needs to hear.

* * *

Beca lets Aaron pick the pizza place.

She won't admit she's giving into all his requests because she feels she has to make up for leaving him over Christmas. She maintains that it's something she needed, but it could have come at a better time. So, she just wants to keep him smiling, which is something so unfamiliar to her, and so she'll suffer through whatever pizza toppings he picks.

Pineapple, apparently.

"Dude, you are killing me here," Beca tells him, but still - somewhat begrudgingly - orders Hawaiian on one half of their shared pizza. The other half is just a standard pepperoni, because she's not some kind of heathen.

Aaron just giggles at her antics while they stand and wait for their order. The place is full, all the tables and booths occupied by couples and families and even a few singles, and Beca wonders what she would be doing right now if she were still in Portland.

Definitely not racing after Aaron when he suddenly takes off, that's for sure.

One second he's just standing there, and the next, he's just _gone_. Beca scrambles to follow after him, already ready to yell at him for giving her a heart attack at such a young age, when she sees just what's drawn his attention.

Emma.

Beca's heart beats a little faster when she realises that Emma, Mia and Matty are all here, accompanied by a pair of women and two other children Beca doesn't recognise. She approaches just as Aaron starts talking excitedly _at_ Emma, who beams when she notices Beca behind him.

But, it's Matty who screeches, "Beca!" and almost flies right out of his seat at the sight of her.

Emma, of course, takes the cue to make all the necessary introductions, and both Beca and Aaron get introduced to Emma's godmothers, Aunt Santana and Aunt Brittany, and their two sons, Cesc and Jay.

Brittany's eyes linger on Beca for a beat too long. "So, you're the famous Beca," she says, all knowing smiles.

"I wouldn't call myself famous," she says, flushing instantly.

"With the way Rachel and Q go on about you, you'd think you were Anna Kendrick," Santana adds, which does nothing for Beca's blush.

"Are you guys in a rush?" Brittany asks. "You should join us."

Beca starts to protest - not wanting to impose - but Aaron immediately slides into the booth beside Emma, and that basically decides it. She rolls her eyes at the collective laughter, and then slips in next to Brittany, only for Matty to climb straight into her lap and start telling her all about his super-productive day.

It's obvious he's on his last legs, though, his eyes blinking to stay open. He yawns every few words, and Beca loves him. She really, really does, and it is terrifying.

Aaron fetches their pizza when their order is called, but Santana insists they save it for the morning, inviting them to partake in the various pies they've already ordered for themselves.

"Emma even ordered that devil topping, so you're in luck, Kid," Santana tells Aaron, exaggerating a shudder when Aaron asks if there's any Hawaiian.

"That's why we're best friends," Emma says with a grin, cheese in her teeth, and Aaron blushes to the roots of his hair.

Huh.

No?

No way?

Santana winks at Beca over Jay's head, and Beca feels as if she's been let in on a secret. "Eat up, Little B," she adds a beat later.

Beca shifts Matty around in her lap, making him more comfortable as he valiantly fights sleep, and then reaches for a slice of pepperoni pizza.

Maybe coming out tonight wasn't the worst thing in the world, but she's definitely not going to admit that to Aaron.

* * *

When the pizza arrives, Sian accompanies Chloe outside to retrieve it, both of them needing something of a breather from the stuffiness of the house.

They've just stepped off the front stair when Sian says, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier."

"What? No," Chloe immediately says. "I'm not. I swear I'm not."

"But, you are _something_ ," Sian says, eyeing her closely.

Chloe should give her credit for at least noticing that much. "I was just curious," she says quietly.

Sian just nods, and allows Chloe to claim their pizza from the delivery guy in silence. Only, once the large white box is in Chloe's hands, neither of them makes a move to go back into the house.

They just stand on the front lawn, perfectly still, as the house pulses and human bodies grind. Chloe thinks this could be a moment for her, but she doesn't know the words.

"If you ever want to talk," Sian says; "you can."

Chloe doesn't say anything. Just shifts her weight and looks at Sian's face. "I've been talking to someone," she eventually says. "One of my teachers. She - she _gets_ it."

"Gets what?"

"Questioning," Chloe murmurs. "Struggling with wanting."

Sian hums around a nod. "Does Aubrey know?"

"No," Chloe says, shaking her head. "I've been meaning to, but I don't - I can't - the words just won't come, and I can tell she's noticed something is different with me, but I - "

"Hey," Sian says, reaching out to touch Chloe's forearm. "There is no timeline on any of it. I was just asking, because she seems very comfortable with the topic as a whole." She pauses. "More so than you are, if I'm being honest."

"Maybe, it's because she doesn't have anything to hide."

Sian squeezes her arm. "I wish _you_ didn't."

Chloe sighs. "Me too."

Sian squeezes once more, and then releases her. "Come on," she says. "Aubrey's probably fallen over by now."

Chloe nods once, and then starts to move, only to stop when Sian says her name.

"I mean it, Chloe," Sian says. "If ever you need to talk, or just need anything at all... I'm here, okay? We've got to stick together."

Chloe smiles at her, says, "Thank you, Sian," and realises she's just added another person to her growing community.

* * *

Quinn goes outside.

Without her coat.

It's a stupid decision once she's stepped onto the back porch, but she's too stubborn to go back inside just because it's a little - okay, a lot - cold out here. Instead, she stands with her arms folded across her chest and attempts to gather her emotions into a tiny box and keep them there until she has the time and mental capacity to unpack them.

Just.

Fuck Frannie.

Yeah.

Stupid fucking Frannie. Fuck her.

Quinn heaves a sigh, her rage disappearing in an instant. She's dealt with all of this in the past. She was _fine_. She was.

No.

She _is_ fine.

The sudden appearance of a man from the side of the house surprises her, and she tenses at his approach. Well, he's just older than a boy, probably college-age, and she catches a waft of cigarette smoke following behind him that probably explains where he disappeared to.

"Evening," he says as he passes by her, but then he stops and stares at her.

She stares right back, trying to figure what he's about to say to her. It could go several ways, because she is here with her wife, and she's really not in the mood for a fight.

But, he surprises her when he shrugs out of his blazer and holds it out to her. "It's freezing out here," he adds when she doesn't move, and then steps closer to hang it over her shoulders, making sure not to touch her with his hands.

She blinks at him. "Thank you," she manages to say, unable to process the act of kindness, because it's really the last thing she expected.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reading her expression. "Because, there's a pack of cigarettes in the inside pocket if you need it. Might help with whatever has you out here."

Quinn laughs unexpectedly, and he grins at her. "Don't you know smoking's bad for you?" she says, relaxing.

"I do," he says, his shoulders dropping as he settles into a conversation he must realise she's not against. "My mother's been on my case about it for years, which is why I have to sneak off all the time."

"You'd think you'd be better at hiding it by now," Quinn says. "Don't you have a mint or something?"

"Oh, shoot," he says, as if she's just reminded him of what he's forgotten. "There should be some in the left pocket, right, there." He points, and Quinn retrieves a little carton of hard candies for him. "You saved me from another lecture," he says; "I'm forever grateful."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I may have saved you from a lecture from your mother, but _I'm_ still capable of giving you one."

"Ah, come on, and we were just starting to get along." His smile is charming, lopsided in a way that gives him a boyish handsomeness, and it seems he already knows this. Quinn has met boys like him, but it's not an off-putting trait in this moment.

Maybe it's because she's older now, and she understands human beings better than she ever did when she was his age.

"I don't see how we could be getting along when we fundamentally disagree on the act of smoking," Quinn tells him, and his smile grows.

"We can debate this," he says; "but I'll win."

"Oh?"

"I'm a champion debater, if you must know," he tells her. " _And_ I have all the facts."

"See," Quinn says. "If you have all the facts and still smoke, then it remains to reason that _I_ would win. Hands down. There shouldn't even be a debate."

He shakes his head. "You can't tell me you never smoked," he says. "Like, you can't be sporting that ink on your arm and tell me you didn't at least try it out."

Quinn chuckles, because this is the type of conversation she could get behind. "That's wildly stereotypical, but I also didn't say I didn't indulge," she says. "I _was_ young once." She recalls her days playing as a skank, going through packs and packs of cigarettes in an attempt to distance herself from the cookie-cutter princess she was desperately pretending to be.

"You're still young," he says, and he sounds earnest enough for her to think he believes it. His eyes start to drift down over her body, but he seems to catch himself, which she appreciates.

She shakes her head. "I went through a phase," she confesses. "Though, I'll admit that I'm more a fan of the _other_ kind of smoking, if you know what I mean."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any cooler."

She doesn't mention that her car accident in senior year severely compromised her lungs enough that any kind of smoke can now be life-threatening, because nobody needs to hear that.

Doesn't mean she can't indulge in a certain type of edible from time to time.

They fall into a lull of silence, and it's surprisingly comfortable. After her brief interaction with her sister and her husband, this is what she needed. Just something to distract her, stimulate her mind, and allow her body to settle. She has -

"Drew?"

Quinn turns towards the voice, eyes settling on Nick, with Val standing just behind him. They look handsome in their suits, both of them with recent haircuts, and Quinn finds herself smiling before she can stop herself.

But, Nick is looking between the two of them with apprehension, something akin to fear in his eyes, and it's the moment Quinn realises he called the man in front of her _Drew_.

Drew, as in Andrew Grayson III, her oldest nephew.

"Sup, Nicholas," Drew says, easily enough, because he still doesn't know who she is, and Quinn doesn't expect the fear that grips at her heart at the idea that his opinion of her is about to change.

"Drew," Nick says again. "What are you doing?"

Drew's smile falters a little. "Um. Getting a lecture about smoking from my new friend." He glances at Quinn, and sees the way her expression has changed. "What's going on?"

Quinn hasn't been afforded the opportunity to introduce _herself_ to any of her nephews or niece in person, which is why she takes the opportunity to hold out her hand for him to shake, if he so chooses. "Drew," she says. "It really is lovely to meet you. I'm Quinn Berry-Fabray." His eyes widen at the sound of her name. "I believe we're actually related."

His eyes grow impossibly larger at that confirmation, and he turns a little green. "I totally thought you were hot," he says, sounding horrified, and then there's a beat of silence before all four of them burst out laughing.

Quinn's cheeks even start to hurt.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Drew tells her, and she's relieved to see there's no lingering tension in his shoulders. He's still comfortable, and even Nick looks a little more at ease.

It strikes Quinn then that she's talking to her nephews. Her nephews. It's nothing she ever imagined she would get the chance to do, and her heart beats steadily at the realisation that this could be her life.

"It's okay," Quinn assures him.

Drew looks at Nick. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

"No fucking way, man."

Drew rolls his eyes, and then peeks at Quinn. There's a curiosity there, and she knows he must have questions a plenty. Only, he doesn't get the chance to ask them, because the backdoor opens, and AJ pokes his head out, takes one look at the four of them and says, "Boys, your mother's looking for you," in a way that leaves little space for protesting.

Nick's face pinches, and Drew's entire body radiates with tension. The smile on his face shifts from genuine to something practiced. Something harder. Dare Quinn even call it smarmy. As if it's all an act he needs to put on.

Quinn recognises it, and she hates it.

She knows it's not her responsibility to fix the world, but these are her people, even if they don't think it. _She_ does, and it's a part of her psyche she's never been able to let go of. "Get my number from Lucy," she tells him, just loud enough for him to hear as she slides off his blazer. "If ever you want to debate," she adds a moment later, handing him the blazer.

Drew just looks at her as if he can't figure her out, but his eyes shutter a moment later, and then he's gone, disappearing into the house after his father.

Nick waves once, and then follows behind his brother, but Val remains, moving to stand closer to Quinn's side.

"I'm trying to convince myself to give you my jacket," he says; "but I have considerably less mass than Drew, and I legitimately think I might freeze to death, and I'm still so young, you know? At least you've lived some life."

Quinn laughs, tilting her head a little. "Keep your jacket, punk," she mutters. Then, after a moment, she asks, "How are you doing?"

"Good," he says. "Nick and I are on the hunt for a spot to share a midnight kiss, but we haven't found a place yet."

Quinn's brow furrows. "Why not your bedroom?"

"It faces the other direction, so we won't be able to see the fireworks then," he points out, and the look on his face is surprisingly morose for something that should be trivial.

Maybe to a heterosexual couple, it wouldn't matter. They could share their New Year's kiss anywhere and be excused for it when the clock strikes midnight.

Which is why Quinn makes it her mission to locate the perfect spot for them.

* * *

When Rachel eventually finds Quinn, the blonde is leaning against a set of double-doors, the full-length curtains closed behind her. She looks a little too relaxed for it to be natural, a flute of champagne in one hand and her phone in the other.

Rachel sidles right up to her, startling her enough that she almost drops her phone.

Quinn's smile is lazy when she finally looks at Rachel. "San and Britt met Beca," she says, and Rachel's eyebrows shoot up. "Apparently, they met at the pizza place and ended up eating together. Look." Quinn holds her phone out for Rachel to see, eyes taking in the picture Brittany has taken of Matty fast asleep in Beca's lap and sent to Quinn.

Rachel melts on the spot.

Quinn must read her facial expression, because she says, "I know." She sighs. "I think I'm more on board now, with the idea of Beca."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn doesn't respond, her attention shifting to her phone when it buzzes in her hand. She quickly types a reply, and then grins at Rachel. "I did something."

"Okay?"

"Behind me is a balcony," Quinn explains. "It's probably the prime view to the backyard fireworks."

"Okay..."

"I'm guarding it," Quinn declares.

Rachel blinks, trying to figure if Quinn is somehow more drunk that she is. "Why are you guarding it?"

"For a midnight kiss," Quinn says, smiling, and she's probably more drunk than even she realises.

"Ours?"

Quinn stills. "Oh. No." She pouts. "Honey, I'm sorry, but I don't think we'll be able to have a midnight kiss tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because I have to guard the door," she answers as if it's obvious.

Rachel just smiles patiently. "Why?"

"So Nick and Val can have their kiss," she whispers, and then leans in, breath against Rachel's ear. "But, I promise to make it up to you later."

Rachel's heart warms right alongside her body, because her wife is lovely and just very sexy. "And, how exactly do you plan on making it up to me?" she asks, a little breathless.

Quinn tucks her phone into the pocket of her dress - which is a design feature that still manages to get them both excited - and then slides her now-free hand along Rachel's back and around her hip, drawing her closer to her body.

"Well," Quinn says. "I am just the left side of drunk at the moment, but I promise I'll be sober enough by the time we get home." She nuzzles Rachel's temple. "To an empty house. Because our children are spending the night with their godmothers."

"We'll have the house all to ourselves, is what you're saying," she says; "but you still haven't told me how you plan on making it up to me."

Quinn's hand tightens on Rachel's hip, possessive, and the room fades to nothing. "I intend to unwrap you slowly," Quinn murmurs. "So, so slowly. I'm going to take my sweet time with you. Kiss every delicious inch of you. God, I can't wait to get my mouth on you."

Rachel is very aware of the heat blooming over her cheeks and creeping down her neck, desire pooling between her legs. Forty-one years old, and she can still get hot like she hasn't been with the same woman for two decades. "Why are we even here when we have the house to ourselves?" she asks.

"Maria asked," Quinn reminds her. "What was the emergency, by the way?"

"It was some silly, food related thing," she says. "Apparently, Val is allergic to walnuts, and they used them in the pesto on one of the canapés." She looks at Quinn. "Val doesn't even like pesto."

Quinn chuckles softly. "I don't blame him," she says. "I don't like the stuff, either."

"Well, you're both weird," Rachel says, humming softly.

"And, yet, you love me," Quinn says, smiling easily. "Like, I mean, you must love me a lot, because I don't like berries, either."

"I still haven't managed to get over that," Rachel tells her. "It feels like a personal attack." She bumps her temple against Quinn's chin. "On yourself, even. It's actually _your_ surname."

Quinn grins at her. "Because we're married," she says, eyes a little wide. "We're married with children and support each other and have amazing sex and, like, what is this life?"

"Baby, are you being sentimental right now?"

"I'm trying to tell you that I love and appreciate you, and I'm looking forward to the next year of lives, because every year with you has been better than the last."

Rachel won't get emotional. No, she won't. Which is why says, "I'm already going to sleep with you, Quinn."

She laughs, glorious and beautiful. "Just making sure, my love."

* * *

When they get home, Beca settles onto the couch, and gets the surprise of her life when Aaron climbs right into her lap. She's sure she's imagining it at first, because he's definitely too big for this, but there's something in his expression that makes her heart ache.

Beca rubs his back, wondering if he's reacting to the fact Matty was just in his position just a half-hour ago. "What's up, A?"

"Why can't our family be like that?" he asks softly.

"Like what?"

"Happy."

Beca closes her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder, her cheek pressed to his. Their short evening with Santana, Brittany and their family was something to behold. They all seemed so at ease, deeply settled in their lives in a way that's envious. There was laughter and teasing and the kind of affection that Beca feels in her bones. She won't fault Aaron for wanting something like that, too.

Still, she tries to say, "All families have their problems."

Aaron turns his head to look at her. "You're going to leave me," he says, and he sounds so sure. "I know you are. I can feel you counting down the days."

"Hey."

"But you have to go," he says. "I know you do, because you won't ever be happy here."

"Aaron, stop."

"Will I be able to visit?"

She wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight enough that she's sure it hurts. "I'm not going anywhere," she tells him. "Where would I even go, huh? You're stuck with me."

He turns to look at her properly. "You're not so bad."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm staying with you, okay," she says; "so you're just going to have to deal with it. Got it?"

He studies her face for some hint of an untruth, and she tries to remain as open as possible. "Got it," he confirms, and then snuggles into her, stealing warmth.

Honestly, it's the most physical affection she's had in a single day, first with Matty and now with Aaron. Her boys.

"I'm glad I got to see Emma," he says, suddenly sounding exhausted. It _is_ late, and he should definitely already be asleep - but what his parents don't know and all that. "I miss her."

Beca wants to ask, but she doesn't want to draw his attention to something that could just be the perfect, innocent friendship between two adorable nine-year-olds. Crushes make things complicated, anyway. "I'm glad you got to see her, too," she says, feeling a little guilty that she was able to see her just a few days ago.

"Bec, is Chloe your best friend?" he asks.

"Uh, not quite," she admits. "I don't think I have one, to be honest. Not like you and Emma."

"You should get Chloe to be your best friend," he says. "She's nice."

"She is nice," she agrees.

"I like her," he adds, sounding sleepy.

"I like her, too," she echoes, almost automatically, and is proud when she doesn't immediately stiffen at her own confession. Instead, she gently pinches his side and he squeaks. "You just like her because she buys you ice-cream."

He giggles where he is, entirely too comfortable spread out over her. "It was _three_ scoops, Beca," he says with a huff. "If you don't keep her, then I will."

* * *

 **Beca** : _You should know that you've successfully charmed my kid brother_.

Chloe has had more to drink than she initially intended, which is why it takes all of her willpower not to reply to Beca with exactly what she's thinking.

_Have I charmed you?_

Nope. Not today. She's not about to make things awkward between them. She has enough sense not to make such a mistake, despite the alcohol flowing through her blood.

What she doesn't have is enough sense not to make a different kind of mistake.

Because, when that countdown begins, she feels a hand slide into hers, and, for just a moment, she accepts that this moment was always going to happen this night of all nights.

Sian says, "We don't have to," and Chloe says, "I just want to see," and then Sian says, "It doesn't have to mean anything," to which Chloe agrees, echoing her words.

When the clock strikes midnight, Chloe and Sian share a single kiss. Just a press of lips, and Chloe feels something settle in her chest that's evaded her until this moment. It isn't a fire or some kind of passionate fire. No. It's a realisation. A warmth that should terrify her, but rather eases the tornado that's been threatening to wipe away everything she's ever known about herself.

Chloe pulls back quite suddenly, breathing sharp, as she makes sure nobody's looked twice at two girls kissing in the corner of a dark, crowded room.

It helps that everyone is also drunk.

"I'm sorry," Chloe says, and Sian says, "It's okay." She stares for a moment, the house erupting in cheers all around them. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Chloe releases her hand, feels her pulse thunder in her veins as her fists clench in something like panic. "I did," she says, forcing herself to stay calm. She's okay. The world hasn't ended. She's still breathing. "Thank you."

Sian just grins at her. "What did I say, Chlo?" she says, nudging Chloe with her elbow. "Anything you need."

Chloe might have worried that the moment after would be weird, but she's glad for this Sian in this present. This moment. The After. She's just that much closer to being ready.

"I think you're going to be okay, Chloe Beale," Sian tells her.

It doesn't feel like a lie when she agrees.

* * *

Quinn sees Frannie once more, after they've entered the New Year, and after she's helped a young couple share a secret kiss.

It happens when Quinn is retrieving her and Rachel's coats, carrying them over one arm. She doesn't think Frannie is even aware she's there at first, and she just listens as Frannie requests her own coat from the check-in.

It's almost funny when Frannie notices her because she visibly startles, her eyes widening, and Quinn just smiles tightly at her. If Quinn is being honest, she'll admit to thinking about this moment a lot. She's spent hours and hours imagining bumping into her mother again; possibly encountering Frannie in some grocery store.

The thing is she's never been sure what she would say when she got here.

Which is why it's a surprise when her mouth opens and says, "Your kids are great."

Frannie looks even more caught off guard, if it were even possible. "They are," she agrees quietly.

Quinn just shakes her head, because it really is more painful than she ever imagined it would be. "See you around, Frannie," she says, and then turns to leave. Maybe she really doesn't know what she's doing, but neither does Quinn.

It's really a recipe for disaster.

* * *

Aaron falls asleep next to Beca as they lie on her bed and watch _YouTube_ videos on her _iPad_ from the channel, _Good Mythical Morning_. It's a channel Beca feels proud to introduce him to, because Rhett and Link are pretty awesome and always good for a little distraction.

The videos successfully managed to battle Aaron's melancholy, and Beca can only hope that's the last time they have such a conversation. She's not ready to deal with the very real truth she'll be out of here and gone once high school is over.

The only thing she'll hang onto of this ridiculous family is Aaron, and that's only on the premise that he'll accept her once he knows the truth about her preferences.

Though, as she runs her fingers through his soft hair and watches his chest steadily rise and fall, she's not too worried about that. Aaron is nothing like his parents in that regard, and she's immensely grateful for it.

* * *

"I thought you said you were going to take your sweet time with me," Rachel almost taunts, her back pressed against the front door to their house, the lights still off, and Quinn all over her.

Quinn hasn't bothered with anything beyond locking the door behind them and shoving Rachel against it. Her teeth are nipping at the skin of Rachel's neck, tongue soothing every bite.

"I changed my mind," Quinn growls, her hands possessive as they move over Rachel's body, scratching at the material of her dress as if she could rip it with sheer force will. "In fact, I think I'll have you right here."

Rachel gasps when Quinn roughly hikes up her dress, and then drops to her knees right in front of her. "I'll unwrap you later," she declares, already licking her lips, visibly salivating.

Rachel could tease her further, but then Quinn reaches for her underwear and tugs it down, intent clear, and all words die on her lips.

Happy New Year, indeed.

* * *

The first thing Chloe does when she gets home is text Beca that she's arrived safely. It's sweet that she's so worried, staying up to make sure Chloe made it, given Beca could have been asleep two hours ago.

The second thing she does is almost have a heart attack when she finds her mother sitting in an armchair in the living room. Honestly, it's something out of a movie, and Chloe almost jumps right out of her skin at the sight of her.

Maggie Beale says, "I made an appointment with Doctor Holding for Tuesday," with little preamble. "Those things are coming out, whether you like it or not." She forces out a breath. "I'm done acting as if I lost both children."

And then Chloe is left standing alone, watching the spot her mother just vacated.

The third thing Chloe does is curse all her stupid plans.

She absolutely does not cry.


	16. Chapter 16

**XVI**

Along with the New Year, arrives Hiram Berry at the Berry-Fabray home.

At the time, Quinn is out with Mia, the two of them making the drive to Columbus to pick up Beth from the airport. The twenty-four-year-old committed to spending Christmas and New Year with her mother and stepfather, so now she's in Lima for nearly two weeks, fully intending to enjoy some time with her second mother.

Rachel is working in her studio when she hears the ring of the doorbell. The fact she hears it at all is a feat in itself, but Emma still comes to get her to tell her there's someone at the door. Her daughter has been working on her holiday homework at the dining room table, sneaking looks at the television that Matty pretends to watch when he's not building his wooden blocks.

Rachel sends Emma back to her multiplication sums, and then checks the peep hole to see who's at the door.

She promptly freezes.

The last person she expected to see today was her father. They haven't spoken since the care facility talk beyond a short text she sent wishing both her parents a Happy New Year.

What is he doing here?

She steels herself for whatever he has to say, and gets the surprise of her life when she opens the door to hear him immediately say, "You were right, and I'm sorry."

Rachel instantly deflates. "Why don't you come inside? It's cold out there."

* * *

When Chloe suggested she and Beca hang out, she was under the impression it would be just the two of them. Not that she's complaining - not really - because she adores Aaron, but she's definitely not going to start any attempt to flirt with Beca with her little brother within hearing distance.

Not that she thinks she's brave enough to try.

It's just a thought.

A pleasant, terrifying one, but still a thought.

Instead of ice-cream, they go for hot chocolate at one of Chloe's favourite cafés, and Chloe finds that Aaron is just as cute with whipped cream on his nose as he is with bubblegum ice-cream. Chloe sits across from the both of them, unable to stop smiling. She could look a bit like a maniac, but she doesn't care.

This is the happiest, most settled she's felt since her appointment with Dr Holding, and she's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She's just going to enjoy this, and not think about whatever upcoming surgery her mother and surgeon are trying to get her to commit to.

Nope.

Not today.

"Beca's getting her car tomorrow," Aaron tells her, licking his lips of the powdered sugar from the brownie he begged Beca to get for him, his pout out in full effect.

Chloe looks at Beca at the unexpected news. "Oh?"

Beca blushes. "Nobody really knows," she says. "I picked it out with my gran, so I'm hoping the dealer didn't screw us over when we actually go to get it."

"What make is it?" Chloe asks, and then holds her breath in anticipation of hearing the words _Subaru_ or _Jeep Wrangler_.

She's both disappointed and relieved when Beca says, "A _Mazda_."

Chloe laughs, and she doesn't even know why. It just gets worse when Beca and Aaron give her matching looks of confusion, and she makes the mistake of trying to sip her own hot chocolate, almost choking in the process.

"Dude," Beca says, eyes wide; "is that Irish hot chocolate or something?"

Chloe's laughter tapers off and her mouth settles into a soft smile. "Nah," she says; "I find I'm intoxicated on something else today."

Beca gives her a quizzical look, Aaron calls her weird, and Chloe loves every second of it.

* * *

Quinn's good mood evaporates to nothing when she pulls into the driveway of their house and sees a car she recognises and suddenly wishes she didn't.

Beth immediately picks up on the change in her demeanour, but she won't bring it up in front of Mia, who is in a surprisingly talkative mood. Beth can usually get many words out of her, and Quinn loves the relationship they have.

What she's not a fan of, though, is that she's now going to have to deal with a situation regarding Rachel's parents, when all she wants is to enjoy yet another day off with her lovely children.

It's probably not going to happen.

"Let's get inside," Quinn says, shifting into Park. "I'm sure they all can't wait to see you."

Beth gives her a curious look, but follows the instruction with little protest. Quinn fetches her suitcase from the back while Beth releases Mia from her Booster Seat and guides her towards the front door.

Quinn checks her phone for any contact from Rachel, wondering if her wife has sent her any warning about what she's about to walk into. Her phone is free from Rachel's name, which is actually more worrying than not.

The house is quiet when they eventually get inside, the television switched off and the front rooms empty of occupants. For a moment, Quinn is convinced nobody's actually home, but then she hears Matty's squeal, and her heart jumps into her throat.

Mia goes off in the direction of the noise, coming vaguely from Rachel's studio, but Quinn takes Beth's suitcase up the stairs towards what is unofficially her bedroom.

Beth follows her.

Watches as Quinn enters the room and lifts the suitcase onto the second of the two double beds in the room. Beth teased them about catering to all the guests possible with this one room, and Quinn told her she's not a guest. She's family.

Quinn meant it then, and she'll continue to mean it.

"What do I need to know?" Beth asks, dumping her backpack on her claimed bed. "Because something is obviously up."

"It's nothing bad," Quinn assures her, sitting on the spare bed beside the suitcase. "Just some... miscommunication with Rachel's parents. We're working on it."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Quinn smiles at her. "Anyone ever tell you that you're amazing?"

Beth laughs as she digs through her backpack. "My ex-boyfriend," she mutters. "Before he cheated on me."

"I always had a bad feeling about that Jared fellow."

Beth glances at her. "Dude. Ohio is changing you."

"Dude," Quinn parrots. "Ohio is you."

Beth lets out a shout of triumph when she finds her phone. "I'm never just tossing it in there again," she says, and then plops down onto the bed. "To be honest, I kind of forget I was born here, sometimes."

Quinn gets that. After their senior year of high school, Shelby moved with Beth to Chicago, and has remained there since. Beth grew up there, goes to school in New Haven, and has plans for New York post-graduation. The only reason she's come to Ohio in the past was to visit her grandparents, but they've passed on now.

Quinn is her reason these days, and Quinn has never been able to put into words how grateful she is for the relationship they have.

"I like to forget, too," Quinn admits. "I'm glad you're here, though."

"Me too," Beth says around a sigh. "I needed to see you."

Quinn's brow creases in worry. "Is something wrong?" she asks. "You didn't mention anything."

"What? No." She smiles softly. "Just missed you, is all."

Quinn's little heart expands in her chest. "You just missed my cooking," she teases.

"Oh, my God, yes!" she exclaims. "I'm placing my order for dinner right now."

"What do you want?" Quinn asks, already knowing she'll make anything Beth requests. Well. Within reason.

"Pizza."

Quinn blinks. "Pizza?"

Beth nods. "Pizza," she confirms.

"You could have me make _anything_ , and you want pizza?"

Beth pouts. "You make good pizza," she says. "I think your base is the best."

"All I use is Greek yoghurt and self-raising flour," Quinn says, having established using the pair of ingredients when she was still in college. No self-respecting student has the time for yeast, surely. Since then, she's tried various other pizza base recipes, but she always ends up back with her OG.

"And it still tastes amazing," Beth tells her. "Like, how do you even do it?"

Quinn's smile turns into a smirk as she waves her fingers. "Well, Beth, if you must know, I'm really good with my hands."

Beth waits a beat, and then says, "Gross," with the same energy as Beca and Santana. "That's my sister you're talking about."

It always catches Quinn off guard whenever Beth claims that relation to Rachel. She doesn't do it often, and she rarely actually means it, because Rachel and Shelby could never quite establish anything more than personal civility and professional admiration.

The things that connect them are Quinn and Beth, and not the blood they share. There have been no shared family holidays, and little to no contact the way Beth and Quinn interact. Quinn knows it hurts Rachel, because she was always more invested in developing some kind of relationship with Shelby than the older woman ever was.

Now, Shelby is married to a man who entered their vows with children of his own, and Rachel's certain she wouldn't even be a blip on Shelby's radar if she wasn't married to Quinn, who is connected via Beth.

Rachel has always been understanding, though, so now Beth belongs to them both in different ways, and Quinn is just glad she's managed to find a spouse who accepts every part of her.

"So, I hear you're taking my little sister to get a car tomorrow?"

Quinn blinks in confusion. "Who?"

"Beca," Beth says, her tone indicating she thinks Quinn is an idiot.

Quinn successfully ignores parts of that statement when she asks, "How do you even know that?"

"Beca and I text," Beth tells her. "She had questions about what my first car was, and I told her I didn't get a car until I was a sophomore in college."

"I hope you explained why," Quinn says with a grin.

"Absolutely not," Beth huffs. "And, I would thank you to stop telling that story."

"Beth," Quinn laughs. "I will be telling the tale of how thirteen-year-old-you stole your mother's car and went for a bit of a joy ride, just to end up getting pulled over by the police officer who would eventually become your stepfather."

Beth groans. "You're the worst."

"I'm also responsible for your dinner, so I would be nice to me, if I were you."

Beth bats her eyelashes, and then squeals when Rachel appears in the open doorway to the room. She rushes at the woman, pulling her into a fierce hug, and Quinn reads the fact Rachel has come to find her for what it is.

Rachel just confirms it when she says, "My Dad left," in that way that informs Quinn that she knows he was the reason Quinn didn't immediately come and find her.

Beth looks between them for a moment, and then says, "I'm going to get started on dinner." She bolts from the room a beat later, leaving Quinn and Rachel to talk.

"We're moving Daddy into the care home on Saturday," Rachel says, and Quinn sucks in a breath. "It's for the best. He knows that now."

Quinn just nods.

"He wanted to see you," Rachel adds. "To apologise."

Quinn's mouth thins to a line.

"I told him today isn't the day," she says. "I told him you'll let him know when you're ready to hear what he has to say."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "Did you give yourself the same courtesy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you also tell him you were ready to hear him out before he started telling you that you were right?"

Rachel can't answer her, and Quinn gets to her feet slowly. She moves towards her wife, hands reaching for a familiar waist and pressing her against the doorframe with her own body.

"I love you," Quinn says, almost like a secret. "I love you so, so much."

Rachel can barely look at her. "He said we were right," she whispers. "He said he couldn't do it; that it was too much. He said he was sorry."

"For what?"

Rachel reaches up to press a light kiss against Quinn's jaw.

"Don't you try to distract me," Quinn warns, even as her head tilts up to give Rachel more access to her neck. "It's not going to work."

Rachel smiles against her skin. "On Saturday, we drop off my father at a home, Quinn," she says. "I don't even care what he's sorry for. Just that he is." She nips at soft skin. "We'll figure out the rest."

Quinn knows they should probably talk about this more, but she lets herself be kissed when Rachel's mouth seeks hers, and she feels something settle in her bones.

They probably would have spent hours slowly making out against the doorframe if they didn't hear something shatter downstairs, followed by a scream, a yell, and then the word _sorry_.

Rachel looks at Quinn. "Those are your children," she says, and Quinn grins, because, _yes, they are_.

"Oh, by the way," Quinn says. "Apparently, we're having my famous pizza for dinner."

Rachel kisses her once more, just a quick peck. "From the sounds of things downstairs, we might actually have to order in."

* * *

"Here."

Beca barely has time to register Chloe's voice before the girl is thrusting a wrapped gift into her her ribs, and she lets out a soft _ooph_.

"Sorry," Chloe says, wincing. "Just, I mean, I wanted to give you your Christmas present."

"By impaling me with it," Beca automatically says, and then softens. But then she blushes as the implication hits, her hands closing around the little gift. "Oh." She can barely look at Chloe. "You didn't have to do that, Chloe. I haven't - "

"It's okay," Chloe interrupts, eyes drifting to where Aaron is looking through the DVDs ahead of them. It was his idea to step into this media store, and Beca wasn't about to complain about any excuse to spend more time with Chloe.

And music.

But mostly Chloe.

"Well, thank you, Chloe," she says, pressing the gift against her abdomen and feeling warmth spread through her body.

"You should open it."

"Yeah?"

"Right now, preferably," Chloe says, her attention forcibly split between Beca and a stack of CDs in front of her. It's kind of cute, and Beca spends a moment just watching her before she does as instructed.

She can tell it's some kind of book before she even opens it. It's leather-bound, soft to the touch, and kind of perfect. The pages are actually empty sheet music, and Beca feels a smile spread across her face, her feelings for this perfect girl growing into something she's not sure she'll be able to keep a handle on for much longer.

"Chloe," she breathes, a little in awe. "This is - _thank you_."

Chloe's entire face is red when she manages to look at Beca. "I thought you could use it," she tells her. "Seeing as you're a songwriter now."

Beca doesn't have the heart to clarify that _she_ isn't really a writer of songs; just a producer, really. She takes the songs other people have written and makes them _something_ , but she's still going to use the crap out of this gift. She'll even start writing music, just for the hell of it. Who knows what she could come up with? The girl in front of her is more than enough inspiration.

Beca opens her mouth to thank Chloe again, but it's rather Aaron's voice they end up hearing, and Beca can't say she's too disappointed by it. She's not sure her words would have even come out with any kind of coherence. What was she even going to say?

"Can we get _Pacific Rim_?" Aaron calls out, glancing hopefully at Beca. "It's only like four-ninety-nine. I'm nine, and even _I_ can afford that."

Beca rolls her eyes, because she's missed him, but he's kind of also a menace. "Sure, get your adult _Power Rangers_ movie."

Aaron grins at her. "You're the best, Bec," he says, and she can't even be annoyed.

Chloe giggles beside her. "You know, I figured he had you wrapped around his little finger, but it's something different actually to _see_ it."

"Shut up."

Chloe bumps their shoulders together, and Beca feels heat rise up her neck, because _Chloe is touching her_. "It's cute," she says. "Don't worry."

"I am not cute," Beca says, indignant, which just makes Chloe laugh that bit harder.

"You're right," Chloe agrees; "you're adorable."

Beca chooses to ignore her, afraid her voice will come out as more of a squeak. Instead, she tucks her new journal into her messenger bag, making sure it's safe. Then, she says, "Thank you, by the way."

"You already said that."

"No," Beca says, turning her body to face Chloe fully. "For Aaron. When I was in Portland."

"You already thanked me for that, Beca," Chloe says, and she takes a minimal step towards Beca. "I told you I was happy to do it. Me and the little dude get on like a house on fire."

"Oh, I know," she says. "You even managed to charm his mother."

Chloe rolls her eyes this time. "She was easy," she says. "And, she knows my mother from church, so I'm deemed 'trustworthy.'"

That is something Beca didn't know, and she feels whatever dwindling hope she had before fade to nearly nothing. "Oh?"

Chloe shrugs. "I reckon a Buddy Program would actually be a good idea, don't you think?" she says, not seeming to notice the change in Beca. "I mean, I know I made it up as some kind of excuse for Sheila, but I think something like that could be cool, don't you think?"

"Definitely something to think about," Beca agrees.

Chloe nods, already looking as if she's making plans. "I think I'll talk to Dr Fabray about it," she says, and Beca thinks _that_ is the best first step she could possibly take.

* * *

Rachel ends up having to be the one to place the order for pizza when Matty slips on flour on the kitchen floor and wails for four seconds before he proceeds to roll in it, laughing all the while. She shoots an accusatory look at Quinn - and Beth, who is largely responsible for the mess - and both blondes just smile innocently.

 _Everyone_ is covered in flour.

Rachel shakes her head, trying not to show her amusement. "Clean up this mess," she says, taking out her phone snapping pictures of them with what would have been their dinner. "And then clean up yourselves."

She doesn't wait for a response as she turns and walks away from the scene, fingers already sending Beca the picture while she mentally catalogues how many pizzas they're going to need. But she does smile when she hears Quinn say, _this is totally your fault_ , and Beth just laughs and laughs.

* * *

The next morning, Quinn meets Beca at the car dealership, taking an _Ube_ r and inwardly sighing when she realises just where it is they've ended up.

Of course, Grayson Traders would be the pick. At least they have a certified pre-owned section, which is where Quinn finds Beca waiting for her, looking a little nervous.

"Hey, Kid," Quinn says, approaching behind her and gently bumping her shoulder.

"Hey," Beca says, managing a smile beyond her obvious nerves.

"Ready to do this?"

"Am I ready to part with seven thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars, you mean?"

Quinn blinks at her. "I'm assuming that's the most money you've ever spent at once, huh?"

Beca fiddles with the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. "I mean, yeah," she says. "Besides my mother's funeral, at least, but she already had a funeral plan."

Quinn thinks back on every conversation she's ever had with Beca, and this is the first time Beca's ever actually mentioned the death of her mother to her. It's something understood, but Quinn was never going to be the one to bring it up.

It feels like the type of conversation for which they would need to be sitting.

"Well, I'm here to make sure you get your money's worth," Quinn assures her. "Why don't you tell me about what you've chosen?"

Beca fishes in her bag for a sheet of paper, which she hands to Quinn. "It's a _Mazda 3_ ," she says. "My gran thought a hatchback would be better than a sedan. She said it seemed younger." Her eyes roll at the sound of her own words. "I picked the sport kind, because I like speed." She grins with mischief, and Quinn lightly shoves her.

Quinn reads up on the specifics, wincing a little at the mileage. It's an automatic transmission, with front wheel drive, and some decent fuel consumption. She just hopes it's in good condition when they see it. Based on the vehicle history, no accidents have been reported, so she has high hopes.

That get dashed when what they find is the car Beca and her grandmother requested now costs $9,212, and Quinn can't handle seeing the utter defeat that settles into Beca's shoulders.

"I don't understand," Beca says to the salesman helping them, who introduced himself as Trig. "This ad isn't even that old. How could it have gone up? Isn't it supposed to go down?"

Trig looks apologetic. "That was when we were running the reduced priced," he explains. "I'm sorry, but that's the new price."

"And we can't negotiate?" Quinn asks, hard eyes focused on him.

"I'm afraid not," he says. "Not on cars that have already gone through a reduction."

Quinn sighs, thinking hard about how she could approach Beca with the idea suddenly blossoming in her mind.

Though, if she's being honest, it's been there for a while - since Beca even mentioned her desire to get herself a car.

"We do have other cars that might work better with your price range," he tells them.

Quinn nods in understanding. "Okay, can you give us a minute?" she says, and then draws Beca away, her expression pensive.

"I have the money," Beca tells her once they're out of earshot. "I just - I budgeted for the car _and_ insurance, and I don't - "

"Hey," Quinn says. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

Beca looks at her, entirely too trusting. "Okay."

Quinn clears her throat. "Are you set on this car?" she asks. "Is it worth it to look around? Possibly find a car we could negotiate on?"

"I - there was another one we found, with much better mileage," she says; "but it was even more than this one is now. Practically double."

"Let's see if we can find it," Quinn says. "Can't hurt to try. I'd prefer your driving something with less mileage, anyway." Honestly, if Quinn had her way, she would buy Beca a brand new, strong, possibly even bulletproof car.

But, alas, she's certain Beca wouldn't let her.

Still, though, Quinn is creative.

They find the car easily enough when they call Trig back. It's a silver metallic, four-door hatchback, with a tenth the amount of mileage as the previous one, and Quinn prefers it.

The problem is the price.

Quinn puts a hand on Beca's shoulder and says, "Let me talk to them, okay?"

Beca still looks uncertain, but she eventually nods.

Quinn has a plan, but they first have to make sure the car advertised is the car they're actually going to get. She checks under the hood like the pretend pro she is, having Googled all she needs to know, and then they go for a test drive to check the power steering system, braking system, sound system, air-conditioning and other interior controls.

AJ is waiting for them when they get back.

Quinn doesn't acknowledge him until Trig does, saying, "They came in for the black _Mazda_ , but the price changed since they saw the advert. They're looking to negotiate on this one."

AJ looks at Quinn for a moment, and then looks back at Trig. "Give it to them for whatever price they offer," he tells the man, and then turns and walks away, leaving all three of them in something like shock.

Well.

Okay.

Quinn won't even need to enact her plan, it seems, but she does insist on upgrading Beca's insurance plan from her own pocket. She does it in a way that Beca barely notices, and Trig gives her a knowing look after he's done looking particularly uncomfortable as he was initially getting all the paperwork together.

Quinn isn't about to rip AJ off, even if she doesn't quite understand his motivations. Everything surrounding him and Frannie - and Judy - is just confusing.

Money is exchanged, forms are signed, and then Beca is the proud owner of her very own car. Quinn pulls out the key ring she purchased solely for this moment. It's a small, metallic pair of headphones, and Beca lets out a laugh when she sees it.

"Oh, my God," Beca says, reaching for it. "This is awesome, Quinn. Thank you."

"Of course, Bec," Quinn says, and then almost gets barrelled over when Beca throws her arms around her. It's really the first of this kind of hug Beca has ever initiated with her, and Quinn's heart can't handle it.

"Thank you," Beca says again, though it's obvious she means it for something else. Something more.

"Any time, Beca," Quinn tells her, a hand on her back. "Any time."

* * *

"They're here!" Emma shouts from where she's been standing and peeking out the front window since Quinn texted they were on their way home. "Oh, it looks so cool!" And then she's gone, taking off and running right out of the house.

Rachel follows at a more sedate pace, with Matty at her knees, and Beth and Mia behind her. She's feeling many things in this moment, her heart squeezing in her chest, because this feels weirdly like her first child getting her first car.

God.

They really need to talk to Dr Franco about this some more.

Rachel watches as Beca turns into the driveway, sound system booming, and the biggest smile on her face. Her eyes are bright in the sunlight as she brings the car to a stop, laughing when Emma rushes at her, yelling about how cool she looks.

"Can we go for a ride?" Emma begs. "Please, please, please." She looks at Quinn, and then over her shoulder at Rachel. "Please, Ma. _Please_."

Rachel exchanges a look with Quinn, silently asking about the state of Beca's driving, which is really how Beca ends up driving Beth, Emma and Mia into town for ice-cream, leaving a pouting Matty behind with a pair of confused women.

Rachel asks, "What did you do?" as she leans against Quinn, the two of them standing on their front lawn and taking in the bit of sun Ohio has awarded them.

Quinn kisses her hair. "I love her, Rachel," she whispers, as if it's some big secret.

Rachel turns her head to press a kiss to Quinn's jaw. "Good," she says, firm. "Because I love her, too."

* * *

It takes Beca the better part of an hour to pick up on all the little bits of Quinn that make up Beth, Emma and Mia. There are pieces of Rachel, too, but the blonde hair really screams Quinn Fabray in a way that can't be ignored.

Beca feels a little overwhelmed, sitting here, but this has been a great day, and she gets the feeling it can only get better. She has her very own car; one better than she imagined, and now she's here with some very important people in her life, and she feels the most settled she has in a while.

Beca also has to admit she's glad Beth is here. Not just out with them, but in Lima. She's kind of a younger Quinn: more up to speed with teenage problems, but worldly enough to help Beca make sense of things.

Which is why she's not at all surprised when Beth corners her while Emma and Mia are distracted by the colouring items the ice-cream shop provides and asks, "so, how did your date go?"

Beca sputters at the question, her eyes widening. "It was _not_ a date," she whispers. "We just hung out."

"With your kid brother."

"I did not tell you that for you to mock me," Beca tells her.

"It's basically in my job description," Beth informs her. "I would be doing our family a disservice if I didn't tease you about everything."

Beca blinks at her. "Our family?"

"Oh, yeah," Beth says, entirely too easily. "Don't you know? Quinn and Rachel have claimed you." She bumps her shoulder against Beca's. "Kid, you're one of us now."

And, well, Beca can think of worse things to be.

* * *

Rachel will admit that one of the only good things about her father's illness is that he tends to forget the bad moments. Good ones, too, but definitely the bad ones. Hiram tells her he doesn't remember much of anything that happened on Christmas Day, and she doesn't quite believe him until LeRoy is pulling her into a hug as if she and her family hadn't abandoned ship when things turned.

It is both a relief and severely off-putting.

What is even more surprising is how well LeRoy is taking the fact they've decided to move him into a home. Rachel can barely look at him as Quinn drives the four of them to Columbus, guilt flooding her chest. It is heavy, and she feels as if she could sink right into her seat if she wasn't careful.

This is the last thing she wants to do, but they can't cope. Hiram can't cope, and the private home care they've hired isn't enough help. Her father needs more than they can offer, and it is their sobering reality.

"I tried to tell him," LeRoy is saying, entirely too calm where he sits in the back, strapped in and seemingly enjoying the chance to be out of the house. "I tried to tell him this was inevitable."

Rachel closes her eyes, forcing her tears away.

"It'll be fun," LeRoy says. "Maybe I'll meet people like myself, and then promptly forget them."

Rachel shouldn't laugh. It isn't even funny, but she's had such little sleep and she can't help the sob that escapes as a laugh. What is this? How is this even her life?

Quinn reaches for her hand, holding it tightly, and Rachel is grateful for the contact. Her heart aches at what they're about to do. It feels like giving up; giving in, and she feels lost and guilty.

Guilty with regards to her father, and guilty with regards to her family, too. The entire reason they even moved to Lima was to help with her father, and now -

Quinn squeezes again, and Rachel looks at her. "Do you think the kids have managed to convince Beth to watch _Coco_ again?" Quinn asks in a blatant attempt to distract her.

Rachel manages a smile, so grateful to her wife in this moment. "She cries every time," she says. " _Every_. _Time_."

Quinn grins. "I don't even know why they find it so funny," she says. "I bet it's the trembling lip."

"She also wails a little," Rachel adds, the tension in her body easing slightly. "And the blubbering is kind of hilarious."

"I've spent years perfecting my understanding of girl-cry-talk, but even I can never understand her when she gets into it."

Rachel reaches across the console to kiss Quinn's cheek, careful not to jostle her too much as she drives. She won't admit it to anyone, but she feels the need to shower her wife in affection today of all days. They've had a trying week, getting ready for this moment, and Rachel knows Quinn still harbours a healthy amount of hurt from her last conversation with Hiram and LeRoy.

It's something they'll have to address at some point, but that time is going to be on Quinn's schedule. Until then, they have this day to get through, and that is already a feat all on its own.

The rest of the trip is made mostly in silence, the only sounds coming from LeRoy whenever he sees a bird or something else equally interesting. There's something pure about it, and Rachel is content just to listen to him, Quinn's hand warm in her own, and the rest of the world existing somewhere in the distance as they move closer to their destination.

Meg meets them right in front, walking up to the car when Quinn pulls into a parking spot. For a moment, Rachel entertains the idea of not even getting out of the car at all, but then LeRoy is the one to open his door, and their little bubble from Lima is burst.

Meg is understandably gentle with them, particularly Hiram and Rachel, as if she can sense they're the two who are struggling with this the most. It's the first time the men are even coming here, and Rachel frowns at the fact her parents agreed to this place without first wanting to see it themselves.

It's a show of trust Rachel isn't sure they deserve.

Still, both of them seem to like the place. LeRoy praises the garden, and Hiram mentions that it looks quite 'warm.' Whatever that means. There is quite a bit of activity going on, and Meg explains that there's yoga happening out back, and Zumba in one of the studios.

"There's a bit of conflict there," Meg says with a smile. "Our instructors are trying to figure out a better schedule, because the music is supposedly distracting." She rolls her eyes a little, smiles genuinely, and Rachel feels herself relax.

A porter unloads LeRoy's suitcases onto a trolley while Quinn oversees, hands twitching at her sides as she forces herself not to help. She looks as if she's desperate for something to do, and Rachel loves her so, so much.

When they get into the main building, there are an endless number of forms to fill out, and Rachel intends to leave her fathers to do that in private, but Hiram holds onto her wrist when Meg requests they follow her, so Rachel goes with, tossing a look over her shoulder at Quinn, who looks wildly out of place all of a sudden.

"I'll be here," Quinn says, smiling as encouragingly as she can manage. "I love you."

Rachel didn't even know that's what she needed to hear until she just did.

* * *

Quinn has never been good at being idle.

She's patient, sure, but she doesn't handle stillness well. She has far too many dark thoughts for that, which is why she installed a sudoku application on her phone.

And a crossword one.

 _Scrabble_ , too.

Just, anything that keeps her mind occupied and stimulated. Which is what she's doing when the one thing she could never have thought happens. She's found a spot on an empty bench in the back garden, phone in hand, when she hears a voice she didn't think she would.

Not here, at least.

"Dr Fabray?"

Quinn startles at the interruption, and squints up, despite her sunglasses, to find Chloe Beale staring down at her. "Chloe," Quinn squeaks, and then clears her throat. "This is unexpected."

Chloe looks just as perplexed. "It is, yeah," she says. "I'm just visiting my grandmother," she explains. "Trying to get as many hours with her before school restarts."

"That's good of you," Quinn says, and then sighs. "I'm actually here with my wife. We're checking in her father, and it's - it's not a good day."

"Oh."

Quinn nods sombrely. "I suspect there will be tears at some point."

"It's not easy," Chloe agrees, and then points to the space beside Quinn, silently asking if she can join her.

Quinn nods, shifting slightly. "It's actually a lot more difficult than I thought it would be," she admits, and then shows Chloe the screen of her phone. "Which is why I'm trying to keep myself distracted."

Chloe smiles at Quinn's half-finished sudoku puzzle. "I just run through our routines in my head when I need to stop thinking of certain things."

"Huh," Quinn muses; "I never thought of that. I might just try it next time." She leans back, relaxing slightly. "Speaking of routines. Not long to go until our Regionals, huh?"

Chloe chuckles. "Now, you sound like Aubrey," she says. "I'm pretty sure we have more than six weeks left. Almost two months, if I'm not mistaken."

"It'll fly by, you'll see," Quinn insists. "And, well, I still have my best friends in town, so they've helped a lot with routines. We've put together something I think could get us straight to Nationals, and even the Title."

Chloe grins. "Are you talking about Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce?"

"They're both Lopez-Pierce now, but yes," she says. "Are you about to give me a history lesson on our lore?"

Chloe shakes her head, giggling softly. "I don't think I need to tell you about your own experiences," she says. "But, please tell me Sue Sylvester didn't actually shoot a cheerleader out of a canon."

Quinn laughs. "You actually heard about that?"

"I thought it was just some cheerleading ghost story," Chloe says, eyes a little wide. "Did that really happen?"

Quinn just shakes her head, deciding it's best not to answer that question. Sue Sylvester was crazy on her best days, and straight-up homicidal on her bad ones. "Secrets I'll never tell," she says instead, and Chloe allows her the deflection.

"Tell me about the routine," Chloe says.

Quinn glances at her. "You know, you don't have to do this," she says. "I'm sure your grandmother would like to spend time with you."

"She's napping," Chloe returns with a shrug. "I have time before I have to get back to Lima, anyway." She pauses. "Unless you want to be alone, of course."

"No," Quinn says, sounding more calm than she feels. "We can talk. Just, first, how are you doing? How has your Break been? Have you managed to spend time with _the girl_?"

Chloe blushes, and Quinn decides not to mention it. "It's been all right," Chloe says. "We've been spending a lot of time with my grandmother, which is nice, but also heartbreaking. I don't like feeling as if every moment is the last, you know?"

Quinn nods, because she thinks she does.

"I don't think I'm ready to lose her," Chloe says. "I don't think you _can_ be ready, but I'm trying to look at it positively. It's harder when you can't say goodbye. When you don't see it coming." She falls silent then, and it's the heavy kind. "I want to say that it's different to what happened to my brother, but that wouldn't be true. I think, subconsciously, I knew what was coming."

Chloe has mentioned what happened to Chloe's brother once before, though Chloe didn't elaborate. Quinn won't ask, of course, but this feels like one of those moments where they both learn truths about the other.

"We're coming up on one year," Chloe says. "I don't - we don't really talk about him, or it, or what happened or even what's currently happening. I find myself forgetting things about him, you know? Like, the sound of his laugh and the way he smelled. I don't know how to bring him up to my parents, and I think they don't know how to talk about him with me, either. Only Lucy seems to - " she stops.

Quinn frowns. What does Lucy have to do with this?

"They were dating," Chloe explains, wincing slightly, and that springs a lot more questions to Quinn's mind. "She and Patrick. I don't know if that's something she'd want to tell you herself, but they were together before it happened. It wasn't for very long, but it was intense. He loved her more than anything, planned their futures together like the lovesick puppy she turned him into. It was both adorable and disgusting; this nineteen year old boy getting sappy over his high school girlfriend." She puffs out a breath. "I used to tease him mercilessly, but he just took it in stride, easily vowing to marry her one day and become a stay-at-home dad once he washed out as a professional dancer."

"He was amazing, you know? Out of this world kind of good at it. My mother started us in gymnastics at around the same time, and he fell in love with _movement_. When he danced, it was almost as if his body wasn't real. It was like he didn't have any bones, or joints. It was out of this world, and he _knew_ he was good. He knew he would go places and accomplish things, and his dancing was going to be his ticket to the future he envisioned for himself and Lucy."

Quinn can hear they're getting to the part where it all goes wrong, and she braces herself.

"The injury was innocuous," Chloe says. "It happened during a rehearsal, and he overextended as he was landing, and he just _knew_. Like, he was so in tune with his body, that he knew it was serious. Which it was. He tore two ligaments in his knee, and the doctors told him, even if he made a full recovery, it would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same, and he just - he couldn't live in that reality.

"It happened slowly, and really fast, all at the same time. Dancing brought him so much joy that, once it was gone, he didn't know where else he could find that feeling. We tried, but there's only so much we could do. He treated us terribly, pushing and pushing us away until he got what he wanted." She closes her eyes, breathes deeply. "I'm the one who found him," she whispers. "Sometimes, in that moment just before I fall asleep, I see him, just hanging there, and it is - God, it's the stuff of nightmares.

"They tell us our worth is our level of excellence at doing a certain thing," Chloe says. "They tell us we're only as useful to the world based on what we have to offer. They condition us to work towards something and convince us that's all we have... and then, when it's gone, what are we left with? Nothing. We're left with nothing, and Patrick was - he was too good; too perfect, and now he's gone, and I don't know how I'm supposed to survive losing any more of my family."

Quinn doesn't know what to do. Her instinct is to pull Chloe into her arms and hold her as she cries, but Quinn is always - always - aware of propriety, especially as an older lesbian woman in Ohio. So, instead, she pulls out the handkerchief Mia insists she carry and hands it to Chloe, her free hand coming to rub gentle circles over the teenager's back.

That's how Rachel finds them mere minutes later, eyes a little wide at the sight of a hunched Chloe, shoulders trembling, with Quinn vainly trying to offer restrained comfort.

Quinn looks helplessly at her, asking for some help, and, bless her wife, Rachel gives it.

* * *

Chloe will admit to startling when she feels a presence settle onto the bench on her other side, and she gets an even bigger shock when she looks up to see Dr Berry smiling softly at her.

Her eyes dart back to Dr Fabray, then to Dr Berry once more, before returning to Dr Fabray.

The woman smiles. "Chloe Beale," she says; "I'd like you to meet my wife, Rachel Berry-Fabray."

Chloe's mouth opens, closes, and then repeats the action another two times. "No way?" she finally says. "Holy shit, you're totally married to each other." She blinks. "How did I not see that?"

Dr Fabray just continues to smile. "We try to keep our relationship out of school," she reveals. "It's just simpler that way, given everything."

That makes sense, but, goodness, Chloe has so many questions. Gosh, how long have they been together? Longer than she's been alive probably.

Dr Fabray looks past her and asks, "Everything go okay?"

Dr Berry nods. "All the paperwork is filed," she explains. "They have to go through some kind of orientation with one of the nurses. I - Dad isn't handling any of this well, and I - I think we might have to leave him here tonight."

"Rachel."

"Not just for him," Dr Berry says. "For you, too."

There's a lot left unspoken, but Chloe watches a literal conversation happen between their locked eyes, and she wishes with all her might that she finds that connection with someone.

With Beca.

"That little - " Chloe starts, and both women look at her. "Beca totally knows about this," she says, teeth clenching at so many missed opportunities. This could have been a way to figure out Beca's feelings on women loving women, if she'd just known. It would have made things easier.

Dr Fabray must see something on her face - a revelation of some sort - because her expression shifts into realisation, and Chloe panics.

"Oh, my God, you can't tell her," she squeaks out.

"Of course not," Dr Fabray says immediately. "I would never do that, Chloe. Until this moment, my own wife didn't know your name."

"But, she does," Chloe says, frowning in confusion.

"Not in relation to anything we've talked about," Dr Fabray assures her. "Believe me when I tell you how much I appreciate privacy. Especially about these matters. I've always wanted you to feel safe enough to be able to come to me."

Chloe looks at Dr Berry, who's wearing her own look of understanding, and she feels more tears pool in her eyes. "This makes so much more sense now," she says. "I'm such an idiot."

Dr Berry chuckles. "It's kind of cute, so I think you're safe," she says. "Though, I am worried about these tears. Is everything okay?"

Chloe audibly swallows. "Just working through something," she reveals quietly. "Trying to accept that loss is inevitable, and that there's some greater plan for all of us, despite our best efforts." She pauses. "Wow, doesn't that sound defeatist?"

"That actually sounds a lot like Quinn," Dr Berry points out, looking past her for a moment. "Worryingly so."

Dr Fabray just smiles. "I swear I had nothing to do with it," she says a little cheekily, and Chloe feels a small laugh bubble out of her.

"So, Mia belongs to you both," Chloe says, looking between them. "And Matty."

"And Emma, don't forget," Dr Fabray says.

"She's the one who plays soccer with Aaron, right?"

If the connection surprises either of them, they don't show it. Dr Fabray just says, "She's the one," with the kind of smile on her face that makes Chloe burn and melt where she's sitting. Then: "While we're here, we might as well add Beth to the list."

Dr Berry raises her eyebrows. "Chloe met Beth?"

"On Black Friday," Dr Fabray explains. "I'm sure she left quite the impression. She was a bit of a menace that day."

Dr Berry shakes her head, amusement in her features. "Isn't she always?"

Dr Fabray grins. "I mean, yeah, but we love her and her crazy."

"Obviously," Dr Berry says. "Just, you know, she gives me stress."

Dr Fabray looks at Chloe, mischief in her eyes. "Rachel claims Beth is singularly responsible for her last three grey hairs."

"Quinn," Dr Berry squeaks out, affronted. "I told you that in confidence."

"Baby, you tell me everything in confidence."

"Well, I'm stopping now."

Chloe giggles at the woman's pout, heart warming at the ease of their interaction. She's spent weeks and months searching for something like this; an ease about accepting her newly-discovered sexuality, and here it is. Existing in a pair of women she definitely didn't see coming.

Dr Fabray reaches over Chloe's back and gently pinches Dr Berry's shoulder. "You wouldn't last a day," she challenges.

Dr Berry looks as if she's about to argue, but her shoulders drop, instead. "It's annoying that you're right," she says, looking at Chloe. "She's borderline insufferable when she knows she's right, you know. Smug little monster."

One look at Dr Fabray confirms it, and Chloe finds herself smiling that bit more. They're kind of adorable, these two women who have no obligation to sit here with her, but are doing it anyway.

It's no wonder Beca would want to keep something like this to herself.

* * *

Just an hour later, Chloe _Snaps_ Beca a picture of herself wearing a surprised face, along with the caption: _dr berry and dr fabray ARE MARRIED?!_

At first, Beca isn't sure how to respond. Chloe doesn't actually sound mad - not that Beca has any actual experience of what that would even sound like - but she does seem surprised. Beca won't apologise, either way, because Quinn and Rachel deserve all the privacy Beca has been able to offer them.

Before she can reply, though, she receives another text. And then a string of many others.

 **Chloe** : _ALSO. They're so stupid adorable it's almost disgusting. But cute. Help_.

 **Chloe** : _dr berry just called her honey. I'm melting. I'm a puddle. I'm going to evaporate. what is happening?_

 **Chloe** : _omg can they adopt me?_

 **Chloe** : _wait. can I adopt THEM?_

 **Chloe** : _NO. I think WE should adopt them. They seem like a handful_ 😝

Beca can't stop her laughter that comes out sounding dangerously like giggles. She'll admit to having all those feelings and more when she's around Rachel and Quinn. Hmm. Maybe _this_ can be a way to get Chloe's opinions on same-sex relationships. What Beca can deduce so far is that Chloe isn't against them, which is a relief. That's, at least, one less thing to worry about on a long list of so many other things she's got sitting on her brain.

Like how her father basically lost his shit when she first pulled into the driveway in her newly-acquired car. She's decided to call her Grasshopper. She doesn't even know why, and that seemed like enough of a reason when she snapped a picture for CR.

Beca is trying not to care what her father has to say, because he's made it perfectly clear he wants nothing to do with her, and this is a way in which she can further be independent of him and Sheila.

Though, it did sting a bit when he made sure she knew she wasn't to take Aaron anywhere in it. The idiot man might not want to be her father, but he still wants to be able to control her.

Aaron's already gone for a spin with her, but David doesn't need to know that.

 **Chloe** : _also, it's pretty sad about dr b's dad. I kinda just wanna give her a big ol' hug_.

Beca's brows knit together. How could Chloe possibly know about LeRoy? Unless. Chloe did mention she was visiting her grandmother in Columbus today, and Rachel and Quinn are taking -

Huh?

Tiny world, this Ohio.

Beca's not sure whether or not she likes it.

What she is sure of, though, is that she needs to reply to any one of the million messages Chloe has sent her. Her heart is beating a little too fast when she bravely types words she knows she wouldn't be able to say in person.

 **Beca** : _I reckon we should start with a dog_.

She squeezes her eyes tightly shut the second she presses send, and slowly dies for the forty-seven seconds it takes Chloe to reply.

 **Chloe** : _maybe a kitten_.

 **Beca** : _Oh my God. Are you not a dog person? Are you a CAT PERSON?_

 **Chloe** : _there is nothing wrong with being a cat person, Beca_

 **Beca** : _This is the same as mint chocolate ice-cream, Chloe_.

 **Chloe** : _I see_.

 **Chloe** : _Would you be a good pet owner? Because I don't think I could raise a kitten/puppy with someone who wouldn't offer cuddles and a good scratch freely_.

Beca spends a moment thinking of a response, rolling onto her stomach on her bed and thinking back on the pets she's had in the past. Admittedly, there haven't been many, and they were both dogs.

Beca's mother adopted Echo when she was four years old, and Beca used to walk to and from kindergarten with her trustee Irish Setter, who was about as affectionate as they came.

Little Beca _loved_ that pup. There are tons of pictures of the two of them curled up together, and her mother even teased her about Echo being her first love after she came out.

Beca remembers crying for five days straight when Echo was gone - to this day, she still doesn't know what actually happened - but then there was Pickle, who they inherited from one of their elderly neighbours when she passed away.

Beca had a love/hate relationship with that particular chocolate Daschund, but she still moped for a further four days when she went to join her previous owner in a shared heaven just a year later.

Then her mother got sick, and there was no time for pets.

 **Beca** : _I mean, I'm not saying I'm against a good cuddle_.

 **Chloe** : _That is good to know_.

For a moment, Beca wonders if they're actually still talking about potential pets. She can count on the one hand the number of hugs she and Chloe have shared, and none of them would be considered a cuddle. What could she possibly be agreeing to by confirming she's okay with cuddling?

Though, if anyone were to ask, she'd deny she ever confessed to such a thing.

 **Chloe** : _I think I'd be okay with a puppy if you were the other parent_.

And, wow, okay, that's a whole lot of something.

 **Chloe** : _at least I'd know they would end up with good taste in music_.

Okay.

Music.

Music is safe.

 **Beca** : _I've already got_ Dog Years _by Maggie Rogers queued up_ 😏

 **Chloe** : _you never cease to surprise me, Mitchell_.

Beca chooses to see that as a good thing. She's never liked being all that predictable, anyway. Good to keep people guessing. In her experience, she's not too keen on people _knowing_ her, but Chloe and Rachel seem like the kind of people she needs.

She doesn't think she'll be able to hide from them forever.

She doesn't even want to.

Quinn, well, she'd probably let Beca hide as long as she wants to.

Beca's in the middle of typing a response she hasn't really thought through when Aaron races into her room through the door she leaves open just for him. He's wearing one of the _Portland Thorns_ jerseys she brought back for him and packaged with a kiddie drone and a pair of purple _All Stars_ as part of his Christmas present. Right now, he's in panda socks, so she doesn't even complain when he throws himself onto her bed and practically suffocates her.

Okay, so she might complain a little. He's totally heavier than he looks.

His tiny elbows dig into her back as he says, "I'm bored," with all the _woe-is-me_ a nine-year-old can muster. "So. Bored."

Beca rolls her eyes. "I don't see how that's my problem."

"Entertain me."

Beca snorts. "Entertain yourself," she huffs, rolling over onto her back, and gently throwing him off.

His pout is deadly as he shifts to sit cross-legged beside her. "Come play soccer with me."

Beca shifts her phone into her right hand and snaps a picture of him to send to Chloe. "Never going to happen, dude."

"Please."

"No way."

Aaron's pout intensifies. "If you don't play soccer with me, can we go for a drive?"

Beca sighs. " _Buddy_."

"What?"

"What?" she returns. "You heard your dad."

"We don't have to tell them."

Goodness, she and Chloe have created a monster. "They're _still_ smarting about the whole thing with Chloe," she says.

"Chloe would take me for a drive," he says, which is kid-go-to for getting what he wants.

"She probably would," Beca agrees.

"I'm her favourite Mitchell."

Beca feigns hurt. "Stealing my friends, I see."

"I'm cuter."

She laughs. "I won't even argue with that."

Aaron moves closer. "Can we call her?"

"Who? Chloe?"

He nods his head, moving to lie right beside her. " _FaceTime_."

Beca's nerves arrive suddenly and aggressively. She and Chloe have never done that before, and she's not sure a step like that is something she could take without first discussing it with Chloe.

Aaron has no such worries. He plucks the phone from her hands and immediately dials Chloe. Beca's panic manifests in her indecision over whether to grab the phone back from him, but then Chloe's voice is saying, "Still with the surprises," and Beca's heart stutters in her chest.

"Chloe!" Aaron squeals, his excitement making him jump in place.

Chloe's voice matches his when she says, "Aaron!" right back, her surprise barely visible, and Beca doesn't know if she'll survive this.

Aaron turns the phone so both their faces are in the screen, and Beca just manages to smile at Chloe. She looks radiant in the sunshine, hair hanging in waves as she sits on what must be a bench. Her cheeks are a little flushed, but she's smiling so genuinely that Beca has the ridiculous urge to reach out and touch her.

"We're bored," Aaron tells Chloe.

Beca shakes her head. " _He's_ bored," she says, gesturing towards him. "I'm perfectly fine just lazying around all day."

"That's because _you_ get to go out," Aaron complains. "Why can't you take me with you?"

Beca can't think of a way to respond to that to make him feel better, so she doesn't try. Just wraps an arm around his shoulders and draws him closer to her side. The action is involuntary, almost automatic, and she catches sight of Chloe's facial expression.

"You _are_ a cuddler," Chloe accuses lightly.

"And she smells like liquorice," Aaron reveals. "Like, all the time."

"Dude," Beca says. "What are you even talking about?"

"Is it your shampoo?" Aaron asks. "Because my mom's shampoo smells like peppermint." He grins proudly. "And mine smells like key lime. It's my favourite."

Beca blinks.

Chloe looks at her. " _Is_ it your shampoo?" she asks. "Or do you just eat a lot of liquorice?"

Beca's brow creases. "I actually don't know," she admits. "I think it might be my perfume."

"You wear perfume?"

"Don't look so surprised," Beca says, rolling her eyes. "I know I look… the way I do, but my mom bought it for me this one time, and I've just never stopped wearing it."

"What perfume is it?"

Beca pats Aaron's head when he sniffs her. "Diesel Loverdose," she tells Chloe. "She found it on sale this one time, thought I'd like it, and I guess I did."

Chloe raises her eyebrows, because there's something specific in Beca's voice. "Did you really?"

Beca shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks. "I liked that my mom got it for me," she admits, voice quieter. "It reminds me of her."

Chloe's expression shifts to something like understanding, and Beca realises Chloe must _get it_. It's not a pretty thing that they share, but she appreciates that loss is something she won't have to explain.

Grief should never have to be.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN** : This probably isn't as edited as it should be, but I just wanted to get it out in time to wish everyone a happy holidays and a happy new year. Despite all the restrictions on this year's festivities, I hope you all have a safe and joyful celebration. Please take care ☺️

* * *

**XVII**

Quinn has never needed an excuse to watch her wife.

To study and admire. To lose herself in the sheer, otherworldly beauty and literal magic of her. Quinn knows she would go to the ends of the earth for her, and it isn't even an exaggeration.

Today, though, all she's doing is making sure Rachel doesn't fall apart.

They've been back from dropping off LeRoy for nearly three hours, and Rachel hasn't stopped moving once. She's non-stop, cooking up a storm in the kitchen or fussing over some simple decor.

Quinn knows she wouldn't normally be so high-strung over a simple late afternoon barbecue, but Beca's expected. And Santana, Brittany and the kids. Lucy and Nate. Maria, Joe and their kids. And Nick. Jesse, Tessa and Steph.

Quinn would probably also be showing her nerves, but she knows Rachel is feeling a whole lot of something at the moment and Quinn has to be the more composed one.

The get-together was planned before Hiram showed up at their door, and Rachel wasn't about to cancel the entire thing. Quinn still thinks they should have, but it's Santana and Brittany's last night in Lima, and Rachel is nothing if not a good hostess. Quinn will support her in every way she can.

It's just that, when the time comes, Quinn doesn't expect Drew to show up in her doorway, as well. It is surprising enough that the first thing out of her mouth is, "What did you tell your parents?"

Drew's smile is a little sheepish. "What I tell them whenever I'm going for a smoke," he says. "None of their fucking business."

Quinn rolls her eyes, because he sure as hell did not say that.

"Sorry to crash the party," he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a display of nerves that she thinks he normally wouldn't show. Something about him seems very, inexplicably controlled.

"No worries," she assures him as she waves him inside. "We have a ton of food to go around."

"He's a dumpster, Quinn," Lucy calls over her shoulder. "He'll eat you out of house and pocket, I swear. I don't know where he puts it."

"He's a growing boy," Nate says, grinning at Drew from beside Lucy. He's dressed down today, looking more like a teenager than on New Year's, and there is such a lovely boyish charm to him that Quinn's immensely pleased Lucy has him in her life.

Drew keeps his eyes on Quinn when he says, "If you have time, I'd really like to take you up on that offer for a debate."

Quinn studies him for a moment, sensing something serious, and then nods. "Find me whenever you're ready," she assures him, and then ushers them through the house and out to the back deck. It's large enough to hold everyone, though people are scattered around rather delightfully.

It's still quite cold, so Quinn's fired up all the upright heaters, and the air is wonderfully toasty. Jesse is already at the grill, debating with Joe over the best way to get all their various proteins cooked to perfection all at the same time.

At a point, Quinn contemplated getting involved, but ultimately decided against it. She supposes the men need something of a purpose, and it's great entertainment for the others watching them argue and possibly - probably - mess it up.

It amazes her that these are now her people. In this old new place, with these old new people, perhaps she's found her own 'something of a purpose,' as well.

* * *

Rachel doesn't so much as ask Beca to set up her music, as _tell_. She basically shoves the teenager at the rather impressive music system and says, "Make me proud."

Beca's pretty sure she's delivered.

When she was healthy, Beca's mother loved herself a backyard barbecue, and Beca worked hard to put together the perfect playlist for just such an occasion. It's got a lovely mixture of songs, ranging from urban throwbacks to popular EDM. She even added some Jojo Siwa for the little people, and a few extra Katy Perry and Lady Gaga jams after Brittany told a tale about their own Glee days of the past.

She doesn't necessarily _have_ to man the music, but she finds herself drifting there more often than not. She's feeling a little morose, if she's being honest. She wanted nothing less than to bring Aaron with her, but both David and Sheila were home when she was leaving, and sneaking him past them would have been impossible.

It probably bleeds into her entire being, because Rachel and Quinn carefully rotate through checking on her every few minutes until Beth unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair beside her and says, "Dude, who killed your puppy?"

Beca almost chokes on her lemonade, and then glares a little. "Dude. Leave puppies out of it." It's something she has to say, especially after the conversations she's had with Chloe today.

"Someone's testy."

"Haven't you seen _John Wick_?" Beca questions. "You don't touch a person's dog. That's just a step too far."

"Noted," Beth relents. "So, you wanna tell me what's got you in a funk?"

Really, Beca shouldn't be anything but ecstatic to be here surrounded by people she's starting to realise would accept her exactly as she is, but she's thinking of Aaron, and she's starting to hate how much she cares.

"No, you're not," Beth says in response to that explanation once Beca manages to get it out. "It's okay to feel bad. Of course you want your brother here, but he isn't, and I think you do yourselves both a disservice if you don't try to enjoy yourself." She looks at Beca. "I go back to school in a few days, and I don't even know when next I'm going to see this part of my family, and it seriously fucking sucks."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry," Beth tells her, but she's smiling. "I just - I want you to enjoy them the way I won't be able to. Reckon you can do that?"

Oh, _that_ Beca can most certainly do.

* * *

After all these years, Rachel is convinced she can feel whenever Quinn's gaze is on her, and it has strayed in her direction far too often tonight. She knows it's not something she'll just be able to bring up, so she does her best to remain as visible as possible, because she's aware Quinn must be doing it for a reason.

As far as she's aware, she's sure she's holding it together quite well, given she just abandoned her father to strangers.

No.

Not abandoned.

The afternoon is going surprisingly well, given all these people are linked to each of them in so many different ways. The conversations that pop up amaze her, and she didn't even know Beca and Lucy knew each other. Apparently, they met through Chloe, and Lucy looked understandably shocked to see Beca here.

Well.

More friendly faces and all that.

If anyone were to ask her _how_ she would end up spending the last Saturday of her Winter Break their first year back in Lima; she never would have guessed it would be doing this. It's so much more than she could have ever asked for, and she's going to embrace it for all it means for her and her family.

They have _people_.

It's about as surprising as everything else this world has thrown at her.

* * *

And the surprises keep on coming.

Quinn has just set up the fresh drinks she's brought out to the back deck when Drew appears at her side and says, "The topic for today's debate is that there is such a thing as too much soccer."

Quinn glances at him, shaking her head in amusement.

"I, Andrew Grayson the Third, believe that this statement is... false."

Quinn gasps quietly. "You wouldn't."

He grins softly, and there's an ease to his demeanour that she remembers seeing before his father appeared the other night. It's a relief to see it. "I would."

"I do not accept this topic of debate," Quinn tells him. Then: "Do you want another drink?"

He shakes his head. "I have a question."

Quinn blinks. "Is it a private kind of question?"

"It's the kind of question that I already know the answer to, but still need to hear someone else say it," he says.

Quinn meets his gaze. "Sounds heavy."

"The heaviest."

Quinn pours herself another drink, and then walks away, trusting that he'll follow. They leave the back deck, taking the steps down to the soft grass and bypassing where Steph, Christina and Emma have ganged up on Jesse with the ball. Quinn walks all the way to the end of the large yard, finds a boulder near the rock pond and settles on it.

Drew immediately starts to pace in front of her.

Quinn sips her wine, waiting.

"Was it worth it?"

Her eyes snap up at the sound of his words. "Was what worth it?"

"Losing your family over something you had no desire to fight?"

Quinn has actually been asked this question quite a few times. Her answer is always easy, because she never wants to imagine a life where she denied herself Rachel's love. For so long, she agonised over how much she lost, even though it's always been largely outweighed by what she's gained.

She lost family over her sexuality, but she seems to be gaining them back in different forms.

Everything has been worth it.

"Yes."

Drew deflates. "I thought so."

She pats the space beside her. "I don't really know when I turned into a holder of secrets for the Grayson clan, but I'll do my best to help with yours."

Drew manages a smile as he sits. "Do you know the first thought I had when I found out about Val and Nick?"

Quinn holds her breath.

"I thought, God, _how selfish_ ," he admits. "Not because I have anything against them or anything. I just - I was banking on him being _here_. For our family. For the business."

Quinn hears it then; that he intends to go somewhere, and she doesn't think she's even breathing.

"Ever since my father took over the family business, he's wanted to pass it on to his own son the way his father did for him," Drew says. "It's expected of a Grayson, apparently. Like so many other things, and I'm afraid I won't be able to be the man he expects me to be." He breathes slowly. "I mean, he's not a bad guy - I love him to bits, I do - but he expects a lot from me, as the oldest son, and I know I'm going to disappoint him when I inform him I have no intention of returning to Lima and joining the family business."

"Drew?"

"They don't know," Drew says, suddenly quiet. "This whole time, they've thought I was at Northwestern, but I've actually been at West Point."

"Drew," she says again.

It's as if he doesn't even hear her when he keeps speaking. "When I graduate this summer, I won't be coming home, and I don't want to be yet another one of their children to break their hearts."

Quinn understands societal and familial expectations and obligations. She knows how it feels to suffocate under the pressures of a father who wants a certain type of child. She's bent herself out of shape to be that in the past and lost every sense of herself in the process.

But, honestly, in this moment, Quinn is nothing but impressed.

Drew has basically been attending a completely different college than the one he told his family, and she's curious to know how he's managed to keep that up for almost four years. It's a feat in itself, but so is the decision to dedicate his life to service.

Quinn knows it isn't an easy thing to do. She encountered countless types of recruiters during her college days, and she's sure her life could have been very different if she'd made only one different choice.

Rachel likes to tease her about the possibilities of a Special Agent Fabray.

"It sounds stupid when I say it, but I've always believed serving my country was something I was born to do," Drew says, cutting into her thoughts. "Like my calling, almost." He blushes at the sound of his own words. "I told you it was stupid."

"It's not," Quinn assures him. "I think it's something special to be able to find what you're meant for. Some people go their whole lives without figuring that out."

"I don't know if this is something to be proud about," he says.

"I don't know about that," she says. "I think being able to tell people my nephew is in the military is something to behold."

"We don't always have a good rep.," he says.

"No, you don't," she agrees. "There are some troubling stories that come out of the military." Particularly about the treatment of women. She thinks Drew already knows that.

"What if they won't accept it?" Drew asks. "What if I disappoint them more than they can bear?"

Quinn doesn't have an answer for him, because she doesn't know his parents nearly well enough to be accurate with her own words.

Drew sighs. "Do you know what my second thought was when I found out about Val and Nick?" he asks, clearly rhetorically. " _Thank goodness_." He shakes his head. "I was relieved, and I'm still disgusted with myself, because I knew joining the military and abandoning the family business couldn't be - " he stops, chokes on his words.

"Worse than being gay," Quinn finishes for him, and he buries his face in his hands, distraught.

The silence that follows is long and slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Drew says. "Was that too much? I already know how selfish I'm being."

Quinn shakes her head. "No," she says. "I'm glad you're talking about it."

"I'm sorry to lump all that on you," he says. "It's just that my siblings won't shut up about how great you are, and I - I wanted to see for myself."

"And?"

"I hate that my family has made it so that this is only the second time we've met," he says, suddenly sombre. "It's not right. It's never been."

Quinn nods slowly. "I assume you've met your grandfather?"

"Russell?"

"That's him."

Drew's brow creases. "We've met," he says. "We haven't seen him since Grandma left him, though. As far as I know, they don't talk anymore."

Quinn is curious. "When was that?"

"A couple of years ago," he answers. "I was still a junior in high school."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Not really," he answers. "Growing up, they never did seem happy. It was almost as if there was something unpleasant that always hung over them, and they could never quite escape it." He pauses. "Was that you?"

"I wouldn't know," she says. "As far as I know, they barely spared me a thought once I was gone."

Drew shakes his head. "Maybe back then, who knows, but I can assure you that you now live in all their heads rent free."

Quinn grins at him, and decides she doesn't really care why her parents eventually got divorced. She doesn't even know if it was for a second time.

Anyway.

"I understand when you say that," she says, oddly proud of herself. She's not really enjoying getting old, but her fictional writing helps her stay relevant, given all the research she does.

She once spent three full days learning the intricacies of _Tumblr_ , and she's still sure she hasn't figured it out all these years later. Her agent even sent her on a short social media course, if she was going to keep up with her own accounts.

She gave up on _Facebook_ a long time ago, preferring _Twitter_ for interacting with any fans and readers, and a private _Instagram_ account for pictures of her real life. She knows others exist, but she's not that interested. As long as she can text her wife, she doesn't really care.

Quinn loses herself in thought right until the moment Drew decides to light a cigarette. She immediately plucks it from his lips before he can get it lit, and the look of surprise on his face reminds her far too much of Frannie. "Like I told your brother, our house can be a safe place for you too, but there won't be any smoking on this property. Got it?"

He blinks slowly. "Got it," he confirms.

She hands the cigarette back to him, watching as he returns it to its carton. "I'm probably going to have to stop," he says. "I mean, it's already a little frowned upon at college, but I need _something_."

"Try knitting," she suggests, and he laughs. "So, who exactly am I talking to, anyway?" Quinn asks, the question inflected in a very specific way she knows he'll understand.

Almost without his consent, Drew's spine straightens and his head lifts. It's such a contrast to the boy she sometimes catches glimpses of. "When I graduate, I will be commissioned as a Second Lieutenant," he explains.

"Then, what's next?"

"Basic Officer Leader Course, for a year, and then I'll take specific courses towards my training in my specialty of Military Intelligence."

"Why that one?"

"It was either that or Finance," he explains. "Apparently I'm analytical, which is still a surprise to me. Either way, it's the branch I'm pursuing for the next how many years."

All that Quinn knows about the military is what research she's done in relation to her various novels and, well, Finn and Puck - but she's trying not to think of them in this moment.

She's consulted with servicemen and women on occasion, and she has great respect for the lives they live. What she knows is Drew will be a commissioned officer, which is a whole other beast in itself.

Perhaps a lot more paperwork than one would expect.

She smiles at him. "You should be proud," she says softly.

"Yeah?"

She nods once, firm, realising it's exactly what he needed her to say; what he needed to hear. "Yeah."

* * *

"Beryl Archer."

Rachel has never actually wanted to throw a bottle of ketchup at a teenager before, but she experiences the urge for the first time when Nathan Anderson says those two words. It just reminds her that she's supposed to have killed Blaine, and she places it on her mental to-do list once more.

"Like, my mind is blown," Nate says, and he's talking just a little too loud.

Rachel's grip tightens on the ketchup in her hand. The boy isn't even talking to her, but he must know she can hear him. Would it be rude to kick him out? Lucy would be heartbroken, and Rachel wouldn't even know how to explain herself.

But, seriously, does he have no tact?

"I've heard of them," Beca is saying, eyes on her laptop.

"Her," Nate automatically corrects, and Rachel feels a growl growing in her chest.

"Pretty sure they're a them," Beca says, sounding a little distracted. "At least that's what their _Wikipedia_ page says. They named the band after their grandmother or something." She glances up. "Dude. What kind of fan are you?"

Nate sputters a little. "I am a _huge_ fan," he says. "And you know you shouldn't trust everything you read on _Wikipedia_ , right? Nobody will take you seriously with that source."

Beca shrugs. "I trust it enough to know there's at least more than one voice attached to Beryl Archer," she says. "And, I think the mystery of it all is part of the appeal. They're so fucking diverse, man. Like, their catalogue has every kind of song. Imagine being that talented."

Nate looks stumped, and Rachel smiles to herself. It grows that bit more when Nate glances over at her, looking somewhat helpless. Rachel even winks at him, and his mouth drops open.

"No fucking way," he mutters to himself.

Beca frowns. "What?"

"Nothing," he quickly says, turning back to her. "Can you play some, then?" he asks. "I'm feeling a little nostalgic for _Craving_."

Rachel's eyes widen, because that song is... filthy. Not even that it has curse words or anything, but Rachel wrote it about her intense attraction to Quinn, and she still wonders how she let Quinn convince her to release it. Quinn likes to tease her that there are probably so many babies who were made to that song.

In Rachel's defence, she wrote it when they were in their early twenties, still in that 'honeymoon phase' of their new relationship, and Rachel was so, so hot for her.

Their friends teased them mercilessly for months, but Rachel didn't care then. Not like she does now, because nobody is supposed to know she's the one who sings, _I have a craving for your taste; a craving for your tongue and your lips; take me, feel me, break me apart, make me see stars/throw me down, make my heart pound; I have a craving for your body, baby, a craving for your love_.

Jesus Christ.

She's moving before she can stop herself, only to hear Beca say, "There are literal children here," and Rachel loves her so. "What is wrong with you?"

Nate groans. "Can you please just play one of her - _their_ songs?"

Beca looks at him as if he's lost the plot, and Rachel has to hold in her laughter. Still, Beca does end up playing a Beryl Archer song, saying, "This one's my favourite," and Rachel walks away with the sound of her own voice crooning the words, _friend or foe, enemy to my lover, together we fight, once face to face and now side by side/I asked you then, we're kind of friends aren't we, and you said we've never been, baby, we've always been more than that_.

* * *

Chloe honestly doesn't know what to do with the information Beca is currently at a barbecue at Dr Fabray and Dr Berry's house. The entire thing has thrown her. She's just learned so much today, and she's glad Beca can actually tell her these things now.

She no longer has to be guarded about this particular thing.

Wait.

Whoa.

That means Dr Fabray wrote that song for Dr Berry. Ugh. What stupid love. It's not even fair. Except that it is. But also not, because that kind of love doesn't exist, does it? Not this late in life. Chloe's pretty sure her parents don't love each other the way they used to. Doesn't life just drain that away?

That's a sad thing to think, and she forces herself to stop. She doesn't enjoy the thought that the love she'll one day have for her spouse could just fade away as life throws everything it has at her. At them. That wouldn't -

"Chloe?"

Her head snaps up from where she's been staring blankly at her phone's screen that's long since faded. She had it open on Sian's contact, the strangest thought ringing in her head, but now her mother's talking to her and Chloe knows she's not going to like what she has to say.

"May I come in?"

Chloe already knows what this is about. It's practically written all over her mother's face. Maggie Beale would suck at poker, that's for sure. "That depends," Chloe says. "Are you going to mention the words Doctor and Holding?"

Maggie steps into the room, regardless. "Can I say surgery?"

Chloe scowls.

"I can't understand why you're fighting this, Sweetheart," she says, taking steps towards where Chloe is lying on her bed. "Your symptoms are getting worse."

"No, they're not," Chloe immediately argues. "I'm fine."

Maggie sighs, moving to sit on the edge of Chloe's bed and reaching out with her left hand to rest on Chloe's shin.

Chloe moves away. "I'm fine," she repeats.

Maggie sighs again, heavier this time. "Patrick would say that, too," she murmurs, and Chloe feels as if she's been slapped.

"And look what that got him, huh?" Chloe snaps, and Maggie recoils. "What do you want, Mom? Don't you want me to be silent? Most of the time, it's like I don't exist, anyway."

"Chloe."

"Just leave me alone."

"Sweetheart, if you're scared of the surgery, we can - "

"I am not _scared_ of some surgeon opening me up and snipping away at my vocal chords," she forces out, because she's not. That isn't the part that scares her. It's what comes after. The unknown.

She can't stand the thought that there's a possibility of her losing her voice. Losing her vocal range. Losing her ability to sing to her full potential.

So, no, Chloe would rather just not think about the pea-sized growths on her vocal chords, thank you very much. She has herself convinced they'll go away on their own.

Apparently, her doctor and her mother don't agree with her misplaced optimism. Typical.

"Chloe," Maggie says, and she suddenly sounds tired.

"Why do you even care?" Chloe asks, voice taking on a new edge. "Why, all of a sudden, do you care what happens to me?"

"Chloe," she says, and she sounds surprised that Chloe would even ask such a thing. "Of course I care what happens to you."

"Like you did Patrick?" The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she knows they're not fair, but it's what she feels in this moment. Her mother doesn't just get to decide to care when they've gone nearly a year of this strange type of limbo where Chloe has to talk to her teacher about what she's going through instead of her mother.

It's angering and infuriating, and Chloe suddenly doesn't care if it hurts.

Chloe gets to her feet in a hurry, almost tripping over the light blanket she had wrapped around her legs. She searches for her purse and keys, needing to get out of here. Right now. Right this instant.

Maggie reaches out for her. "Chloe, please," she says. "Please, just stay, let's talk about this, okay? Of course I care. I'm your mother. Of course I care about you."

Chloe freezes, for just a moment, and glares at her mother as a terrible, horrific thought floats through her mind. "If you cared about me at all, you would just leave me to die like did him," she hisses, and then storms out of her room, down the stairs and out of the house.

Chloe _hates_ peas.

* * *

Quinn comes up behind Rachel, wraps arms around her waist and sings softly into her ear, " _I'm so turned on, on, on; I can't even think straight_."

Rachel flushes immediately, because, God, Beca actually ended up playing _Craving_ , and Quinn has always got a perverse kick out of that particular line.

" _Do they know?_ " Quinn sings. " _Can they tell? I have a craving for your body, baby, a craving for your love_."

Rachel swats at her arms. "Stop it," she warns. "You're going to help me hide Blaine's body when I kill him."

"Always, my love," Quinn easily agrees.

Rachel leans back, settling her weight against Quinn and soaking up her warmth. "I love how you have no qualms about doing such a thing."

"You can't assure me conjugal visits," Quinn comments. "I need to hold onto you. For sex."

"I see," Rachel says. "Is that why you keep me around?"

"You really are very talented," Quinn murmurs. "Your mouth, God, the things you can do with it. The sounds you can make. When I touch you... just... right."

Rachel squirms where she is, heat spreading through her body at the tenor of Quinn's voice. Quinn knows exactly how to get her running hot, and now is _definitely_ not the right time for Quinn to start pushing buttons if she doesn't intend to follow through.

Quinn's hips shift against her, and Rachel suppresses a moan.

"Quinn," she says, warning in her tone. "Please tell me you are not about to feel me up in front of all these people."

There's a soft laugh right into her ear, and Rachel swears she falls more and more in love with every second that passes with this wonderful woman. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Quinn murmurs, and Rachel constantly marvels at just how in sync they can be. Even after all these years.

Rachel relaxes further into her, sighing dreamily. "Thank you for today."

Quinn hums. "I haven't even done anything," she deflects, but Rachel knows. She's always aware of her wife and all she does.

Rachel doesn't bother responding, her eyes taking in all the people before her. They're a mixed bunch, but she wouldn't exchange this moment for much else. It feels good to be here, even if she's feeling a little lost. Tomorrow won't be easy, she's sure. The last day before school resumes is bound to be a busy one.

Between getting the kids ready for another semester, finalising all her lesson plans, scheduling rehearsals for the play and generally being on top of everything as it comes; she doesn't know how much time she'll have to be her own woman. Let alone a wife.

Quinn kisses her cheek. "Even Beth noticed that Bec's been a little morose," she says, eye-line matching Rachel's, just a little to the right. Beca is sitting a little glumly, slumped over her laptop as she lines up the next songs.

"Did she ask why?"

"I think something must have happened with Aaron."

"As in, in another life, he'd be here too?"

"Perhaps."

Rachel sighs, and it sounds heavy to her own ears. "I should talk to her."

"I think you should let her talk to you."

She sighs again. "Did she tell you about her father's reaction to the car?"

Here, Quinn stiffens, which is answer enough. "You know, if she would have let me, I would have bought her the best thing on the market."

"Imagine his reaction then," she comments, already knowing this about her wife. Quinn places a lot of stock in the safety of their family, making sure everything they use is reliable. The cars they drive have premium safety ratings, and she never purchases anything with a less than stellar safety and reliability certification.

The alarm system in their house is also top of the line. Quinn regularly checks in with the neighbourhood watch, and she's spent a few good years in self-defence classes.

It's all in reaction to a homophobic attack they experienced just a year into their marriage, and the break-in they suffered when Emma was two years old. The latter is what promoted a move into a more secure building, and the former paved the way for their various pseudonyms.

Most notably: Beryl Archer.

Her reach as Beryl Archer is almost as wide as Quinn's is as Lucy Quinn. Sure, she has accolades as Rachel Berry, the same way Quinn is professionally known as Quinn Fabray, the Academic. But her Beryl Archer following is somewhat legendary, and the mystery behind her identity has added another layer of interest and fame.

When Rachel was deciding on a possible name for her music act, it was really a tossup between Beryl Archer and Herbal Cryer. Quinn was all for the latter, even using her body to try to convince her, but Rachel didn't think it worked for the kind of act she was planning to be.

 _When we're old and grey and decide to start our Indie duo, I promise we'll use that name_ , Rachel told her at the time, and Quinn has reminded her of it every year, like clockwork. She even has a few songs lined up, just waiting for the green light on the project.

Rachel wonders just how much Beca's head would be blown if she learned such a thing. She has a feeling the teenager is going to get clued into the secret sooner or later, which actually comforts Rachel. She likes the idea of Beca knowing these important things about them.

She also likes the idea of potentially getting Beca onto a song with her. She has a plan for Quinn's birthday in a few weeks, and it's something she would want to do with Beca, if she's willing. Music is one of Rachel's most important love languages, and it's something she enjoys sharing with the people dearest to her.

"Reckon we can convince her to stay the night?" Quinn asks, nuzzling Rachel's cheek. "I think she and Beth could do with some good parental affection."

Rachel turns a little. "What's wrong with Beth?"

"Nothing," Quinn answers. "That I'm aware of, at least. She just seems melancholy. I think she and Shelby are having some kind of disagreement about what's supposed to happen after graduation."

"I think you should ease off the questions about it," Rachel suggests. "She's alarmingly like you, and I remember your getting irritated about our questions about what you were going to do after your doctorate."

Quinn chuckles softly. "I did get irritated," she recalls. "I mean, I'd accomplished this gigantic thing, and Siobhan was like, _so, where's the next book?_ And you wanted me to finish building Emma's doll house, when she was too little even to know what it was."

"I also recall needing you to finalise the lyrics for my album."

"It was a stressful time for me."

"It's a stressful time for Beth, too, Honey," Rachel says. "And for Beca. I think they can help each other."

"And we get free babysitting," Quinn points out.

Rachel twists her neck to kiss Quinn's cheek. "See," she muses; "this is exactly why I married you."

"Not because I know exactly how to work you up?"

Rachel chuckles. "Well," she murmurs; "there's that, too."

* * *

At first, Chloe doesn't know where to go.

Her rage has faded considerably, but she's still agitated. Irritated. How dare her mother decide to care and basically tell her that nothing else matters beyond the stupid surgery? What about her potential singing ambitions, huh?

Chloe knows the risks. Of course she knows the risks. Dr Holding gave her the necessary documentation, and she's done her own reading. She knows how dangerous the little nodules on her vocal chords are. To her voice, and to her health.

She also knows just how dangerous it is that there's a significant part of her that just doesn't care.

The thought gives her pause, and she forces herself to pull over before she does something crazy and drives into oncoming traffic. Her eyes are a little blurry from her tears she won't shed, and she can barely see the road.

She doesn't actually _want_ to die.

She shifts the car into Park, reaches for her phone and texts Sian. It's a little automatic, her fingers pulling up the girl's contact and typing a message that has nothing to do with anything.

 **Chloe** : _She's a dog person_.

She doesn't get a response right away, which is somewhat expected. It's late Saturday afternoon, and Sian must be busy. But she sends the message and spends the next few minutes trying to compose herself. There are places she can go, she knows, but -

Her phone pings, and she actually jumps in place. And then laughs at herself. "Idiot," she mutters, reaching for her phone, and then feels herself relax further at the sight of Sian's name.

 **Sian** : _You and your lesbian stereotypes_

Chloe giggles, alone in her car as she leans back and figures out how to ask something of Sian she's never asked before.

 **Chloe** : _Are you busy?_

 **Sian** : _I'm currently working on my truck_.

Chloe has just enough time to react with wide eyes before Sian sends more messages.

 **Sian** : _JK_.

 **Sian** : _I'm not THAT MUCH of a lesbian_.

 **Sian** : _I'm just watching Top Chef reruns and trying to figure out if I'm going to be adventurous enough and attempt to make some kind of foam for dinner_.

Chloe takes a deep, fortifying breath, and then bravely sends back, _are you up for some company?_

* * *

Beth places a plate of food in front of Beca and says, "You don't snore, do you?"

Beca just blinks at her. "I - I don't think so."

"Nobody told you do?"

"Aaron would probably just tell me I do to mess with me."

Beth grins at her, drawing up a chair and sitting beside her. "Gosh, everything you tell me just makes me want to meet this little dude more and more," she says, and Beca feels this strange ache in her chest for the same thing. "But, seriously, do you snore, because I appreciate good sleep, and I will smother you with a pillow if you keep me up?"

"What?"

Beth eyes her curiously, and then winces. "Oh? Rachel hasn't talked to you yet?"

"About what?"

Beth ignores the question and slides Beca's food closer to her. "I got you a burger, by the way. Quinn mentioned you don't like slaw - you heathen - so I put some of her crazy good burger sauce instead. Pickles on the side, because gross."

"Pickles are awesome," Beca says, even though she feels weirdly off-balance.

"Don't talk to me."

She grins, and then allows her smile to soften. "Thank you," she quietly says. "I - yeah, thank you."

"I should warn you that Jesse was in charge of the burgers, so it may or may not be horrendously overcooked."

Beca frowns. "Jesse?"

"St James," Beth clears up for her. "The tall guy with the hair he hasn't changed in like twenty years."

Beca's frown deepens, because there's an odd fondness to Beth's voice that makes her discomfort grow. "They've known each other that long?"

Beth bites into her own burger, cabbage slaw falling from the bun and onto the paper plate in her lap. She chews, swallows, and then wipes her mouth with a paper napkin. "Since before I was born, as far as I know," she explains. "He used to be one of my mom's students. The way she talks about him; he was probably more obsessed with show choir than Rachel ever was. I mean, I don't know if Rachel's ever told you about the New Directions' old rivalry with Vocal Adrenaline - "

Beca recognises the name from Aubrey's musings about who they're likely to face for their Regionals competition in late February.

"But it was wild," Beth finishes. "Like, telenovela levels of drama, Bec. Quinn still rages about it when you get her into her wine. It's kind of hilarious to see them reminisce about those days, because they were like a legit soap opera."

Beca is definitely interested to know more. "What even happened?"

Beth shifts in her seat, getting more comfortable as she prepares for her secondhand tale, keen to impart with it.

The problem, though, is that Beca doesn't hear much of anything past the words, "Well, you know how Jesse was Rachel's first boyfriend..."

* * *

Sian ends up making a tomato foam, Chloe just watching in amusement as she uses the immersion blender like a professional chef. Apparently, she's been inspired by the contestant, Marcel, from season two of the show, _Top Chef_.

"He's a little shit, but, I mean, who doesn't like a good foam?" is Sian's explanation, and that's all there is to it.

Except. "You've never even tried making foam before, have you?"

"Fuck no." Sian laughs, this boisterous thing that you just can't help but laugh with her. She's so different to the rest of Chloe's friends, in that she just seems so free. It's as if she's abandoned all worry about what people think of her, and it has been liberating.

Chloe is appropriately envious. Instead of this realisation bringing her some sense of peace, it's made things more difficult. It's constantly on her mind, making her question everything and anything she does around her friends and family. It's forced her to analyse all her thoughts and actions, which isn't what's supposed to happen, she knows, but it's this byproduct of the fact she's hiding all these parts of herself.

It's just so fucking exhausting.

Sian must sense it, because she's kind and lovely as she tries to keep Chloe distracted. She's not asking any of the questions Chloe knows she wants to, which is definitely appreciated, even though Chloe wishes she would.

She wants to talk about it - everything - but she doesn't want to be the one to initiate the conversation. So, instead, she watches as Sian puts on something of a cooking show, butter-poaching halibut and making a pomme purée to go along with her tomato foam. She also attempts to confit onions, but it really doesn't work out, so she sautés baby leeks and diced carrots instead.

Chloe makes a point to take a ton of pictures once Sian has plated up her creation. It's seriously some of the fanciest food she's seen right in front of her, and it has the taste to match.

"The problem with such fancy food," Sian says, sighing as she finishes her last bite; "is that it's gone so quickly."

Chloe hums around another bite of fish. "Three bites and it's gone. What sorcery is that?"

Sian grins at her. "That's probably why they have menus with, like, five courses."

Chloe folds her arms across her chest. "Well, chef de cuisine, where are the next four courses then?"

Sian rolls her eyes. "Come back tomorrow."

"And I'd get all four?"

"I'll prepare an entire five-course meal for you," she declares.

"Seriously?"

Sian shrugs. "Why not? I don't really have anything better to do, and I actually enjoy doing all this stuff." She shifts her plate forward and leans her elbows on the table. "I mean, it's really no work getting to cook for a pretty girl."

Chloe blushes as if on cue, and Sian seems to enjoy it a little too much. She pokes Chloe's upper arm, and then gathers their plates as she gets to her feet.

"You're going to need to get used to girls flirting with you," Sian says. "I mean, girls will flock to you when they learn they have a chance."

"I didn't even think it would be different to boys," Chloe confesses, mainly because she hasn't spent a lot of time thinking about it. She hasn't really thought past Beca.

Who is a dog person.

"Do you blush when boys flirt with you?" Sian asks, rinsing their plates and packing them in the dishwasher.

"I used to," Chloe reveals, sipping at her water. "But not anymore. Now I just find it annoying."

"Boys _are_ irritating, aren't they?"

Chloe smiles at Sian's indulgent expression. "They're not all bad," she says. "Don't you have a brother?"

"He's _definitely_ irritating." She moves towards the fridge, opening the door and scratching inside for something. She's honestly non-stop in the kitchen, and Chloe's given up on trying to keep up.

Chloe reaches for her phone and lights the screen, only to cringe when she sees the number of messages and missed calls she's received from her mother. She also has a few texts from Aubrey, Stacie and Emily, and a handful from Beca.

Chloe doesn't open any of them.

What she does do is lock her phone, look at Sian and say, "I'm a mess."

Sian stops what she's doing immediately and closes the fridge door with a pack of strawberries and a can of whipped cream in her hands. "I thought you were doing better, since the... you know."

"The kiss?"

It's Sian's turn to blush, which is so unexpected. "Yeah." She sets her treasures on the table before fetching two soup bowls for them, before she finally returns to her seat, hands on the table. "Something else is happening?"

"Something else is always happening," she mutters, mostly to herself. Today has just been a day and a half; emotional in a way she wishes it hadn't been. "I have… this… decision I have to make."

"Okay..."

"Actually, it isn't really a decision I can't afford not to make," Chloe continues. "I have to do this thing, but it's really about timing, and the longer I wait; the worse it's going to get."

Sian doesn't immediately respond, visibly thinking over Chloe's words. When she does speak, she sounds solemn. "It's something serious, isn't it?"

Chloe nods slowly.

"The kind of serious that you should probably be making this decision tomorrow?"

Chloe drops her gaze, a little embarrassed. "Something like that."

"Do you need me to tell you what to do, because I can," Sian offers. "If you need to hear the words coming from someone else."

"I don't," Chloe says, suddenly sure. "I already fought about it with my mom, which ended up turning into a completely different fight, and I don't know how my life is supposed to get any easier at this point."

Sian looks alarmingly worried for the first time, and she's probably just realised she's not quite qualified to deal with everything Chloe has going on. "It probably won't make you feel better to hear this, but it's not going to get easier unless you _do_ something about it." She leans forward. "I won't sugarcoat it, Chloe, because it's pretty obvious you're struggling with a lot more than just your sexuality at the moment."

Chloe sighs, her shoulders slumping. "I'm avoiding a lot of this," she admits. "I know that, but I also think I'm focusing so much attention on her as some kind of distraction. Like, I'm looking for all these signs that - " she starts, and then stops, caught.

"She's a dog person," Sian says, and Chloe can only wonder how it is this girl already just _knows_ her. "I get it," she says. "You're looking for signs in both directions, because you want her to be into girls, but you also don't at the same time. I get all of that, Chloe, because I've been where you are - believe me - but I still think you're missing the point."

"What point?"

"It is not about her."

Chloe just stares at her, because that's -

What does that even mean?

"It's about _you_."

Oh.

Sian reaches across the kitchen table and pries Chloe's hands apart where they're gripping her glass of water tightly. "I don't think placing this kind of pressure on yourself in relation to a specific girl is the right thing to do. It's not good for you. The way you identify might have needed her as a catalyst, but who _you_ are is separate from that. Believe me when I tell you it will break your heart to pieces crushing on someone who won't be able to return her feelings. Especially when you base your own response on the outcome of that person."

Chloe hears something in her voice - something particular - and she just knows Sian is speaking from experience.

"Mine is - _was_ , I mean, also a dog person." Sian winces at her slip, and then busies herself with plating halved strawberries and cream for them.

"You have four cats," Chloe points out.

Sian shrugs. "I am but a stereotype is some regards, dear Chloe," she says, faking a Victorian accent. "There's no way to know for sure, you know? You'll just have to ask her to confirm it, but the catch-22 of that is it's usually accompanied with offering up a piece of yourself, and it doesn't seem you're ready for that."

Chloe watches as Sian gets to her feet to retrieve some mint leaves from the fridge. She grabs a cutting knife and two spoons, and then returns to her seat.

"Why is it so much easier to talk to you?" Chloe asks. "Or Lucy? Or my Coach?"

Sian sliced fresh mint leaves very thinly and sprinkles them over the strawberries and whipped cream. "I don't think it's easy at all," she muses, eyeing her little creation critically. "I think you're being incredibly brave every time you talk about it."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"That's probably because you're getting used to it," Sian says, getting to her feet again and fetching balsamic vinegar this time. "And, I'm sure the people you're talking to are genuinely happy for you."

"Why can't _I_ be happy for me?"

Sian smiles a little indulgently, drizzling some vinegar over the strawberries. "You'll get there," she says, sliding one of the two soup bowls in front of her across the table. "Until then, there's dessert."

Chloe reaches for the spoon already in the bowl. "Thank you."

"I told you there's nothing quite like cooking for a pretty girl." She exaggerates a wink, and then pouts when she garners no reaction front Chloe. "Damn," she sighs. "Not even a blush? Are my powers waning?"

"Maybe I'm just not attracted to you," Chloe points out, digging into her strawberries.

"Ouch, Beale," Sian returns with a laugh hand on her chest over her heart. "I'm a cat person, you know? And I cook. I'm practically your perfect woman."

Chloe just smiles in appreciation, because all of this is exactly what she needed today of all days. "Thank you, Sian," she says again, and then marvels as Sian blushes for the second time. "I'm glad I get to call you one of my people."

* * *

Lucy hugs Quinn for the first time ever when she, Drew and Nate are on their way out of the house. Quinn doesn't expect it, and her heart stutters in her chest when Lucy's arms wrap around her shoulders and she thanks her for a lovely day right into her ear.

Nate isn't nearly as bold as his girlfriend - especially after the daggers Rachel has been sending his way all evening - so he offers an awkward little wave, and Drew just shakes her hand, firm and polite.

While he's near, Quinn steals his cigarettes without his noticing, and she winks at Nick over Drew's shoulder. He beams back at her, hovering near Val as the two of them wait to say their farewells as well. It's reaching that time that an afternoon barbecue should end, and their guests are on their way out.

Santana, Brittany and their boys were the first to leave, the Latina huffing and puffing about Brittany's parents guilting them into dinner together on their last night in Lima. Now, everyone is steadily gathering their belongings and acquired leftovers, and trickling out of the house.

Rachel is bustling about making sure nobody forgets any of his or her belongings and Quinn is manning the front door and basically seeing everyone out.

Lucy tells Quinn she's going to bug her for the spice rub on her shrimp, and then she's leading Drew and Nate out the door. Maria, Joe and Christina leave next, and then Quinn spends a full ten minutes chatting to Nick and Val about the upcoming week.

It's going to be a busy one for all of them.

Next to leave is Jesse, and Tessa and Steph. Quinn is immensely pleased they all seem to be interacting better together. Jesse seems lighter, almost less burdened, and Steph is talkative in a way she wasn't before.

"I don't think your Beca likes me all that much," Jesse comments on his way out, looking a little thrown by that observation. "I barely even know the girl."

Quinn plays it off as nothing, but she gets the impression it's something more. "She's a Bella, St James," Quinn says as an offered explanation. "Isn't it basically in her DNA to hate everything to do with the Treblemakers?"

Jesse still looks pensive. "It's more than that," he says, and leaves it at that. Steph joins them before the conversation can continue, and then Tessa emerges from somewhere inside the house with a to-go container in hands.

"Got all your goodies, I see," Quinn teases, leaning against the doorframe

"I was not leaving here without all the brownies I could realistically get away with," Tessa informs her. "I'm convinced you put some kind of edible in them."

Quinn laughs in surprise, and then shakes her head. "Just chocolate chips."

Tessa exaggerates a wink. "Sure thing, Quinn," she says knowingly, and then Jesse is leading her out the door, the three of them waving their goodbyes and emptying the house further.

Really, by the time the last guests leave, Quinn is exhausted. It's been a long day and she's been on the move since her eyes opened at six o'clock that morning. It's been non-stop. She would happily crawl into her bed right now and sleep for hours, but -

But.

Quinn closes and locks the door to the night, and then follows the noise into the kitchen to find Beth and Beca packing away the mountains of leftovers into plastic containers and into the fridge while chatting among themselves.

They stop when they notice Quinn, and Beth is the one who comments,

"You look like you're about to pass out." She winces. "Please don't."

"I won't," Quinn returns, and then yawns. "You guys almost done here?"

"Should be."

"Where's Rachel?"

"Matty fell asleep on the carpet, so she's getting him to bed," Beth explains, also yawning.

Quinn glances at the clock on the kitchen wall and winces at the time. "It's bedtime for everyone."

As if on cue, Beca yawns next, and the three of them descend into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that only comes to an end when a perplexed Rachel finds them a few minutes later. She takes them in as a whole, left hand absently reaching out to hold onto Quinn's sweater.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asks her.

"Just came to get you," Rachel says. "I'm putting the kids to bed."

Quinn nods, already turning her body to follow Rachel back in the direction from which she came.

The sound of Beca's voice stops her. "Can I - um - do you mind if I tag along?"

Rachel immediately says yes, waving a hand for Beca to follow close by her side, and the three of them leave Beth in the kitchen, all of them ignoring her exaggerated complaints.

* * *

As reluctant as Rachel is, she still takes Quinn's advice and waits for Beca to come to her.

It's rather simple to get her to stay the night, because she seems more distracted than earlier; tense in a way that could actually give her a headache if she's not careful.

It happens after the barbecue has ended and all the guests have left. It happens after Beca follows as Rachel and Quinn get the children ready for and into bed. It happens once Beth and Quinn disappear into Quinn's study for their 'Blonde Conference,' which she knows is just a ploy to offer Beca the space to talk to Rachel if she wants to.

Rachel finds suitable pyjamas for Beca to wear, and then the two of them make their way into Rachel's studio. She's weirdly excited about finally getting to show Beca her space, and she isn't at all disappointed.

It is something remarkable to watch Beca geek out over the standard of equipment Quinn made sure to have installed for her before they even moved into the house. Rachel stands back and watches, fascinated as Beca identifies all the pieces with ease, the kind of smile on her face Rachel rarely sees. Beca's connection with music is enviable, and Rachel can only hope this world doesn't force her to lose it. It would be devastating if she were robbed of it.

"Do you want to mess around?" Rachel offers. "Put something together, maybe? I've kind of been working on a song for Quinn's birthday, and I could really use some of your input."

Beca stares at her with wide eyes. "Seriously?"

Rachel nods, waving an arm. "Seriously," she says, rolling a chair in Beca's direction. "Show me what you've got."

A lot, apparently.

Aside from a few technical questions about how to use some of the equipment, Beca doesn't say a word to her. Rachel just lines up some of the melody she's already put together and Beca runs with it. Her eyes close as she listens, and Rachel can only wonder if this feeling in her chest is something Quinn experiences when she watches Emma play soccer.

They've been at it for half an hour when Beca says, "Beth told me Mr St James was your first boyfriend." Her voice is neutral, but there's a certain tightness in her facial expression that's unmistakable. She's worried, and she hates that she is.

Rachel keeps her hands in her lap as she sits in her own chair beside Beca. "He was," she confirms. "When I was a sophomore in high school, which was such a long time ago."

Beca shakes her head. "I don't even know why it bothers me so much."

"You do," Rachel counters. "You watched your parents go through something, and the last thing you want is for Quinn and me to go through something similar, and so you're finding significance in things that lend towards this fear you have."

"But you're not my - " Beca starts and stops. "I don't - why would it - "

Rachel rests a hand on her shoulder, unable to resist offering some physical comfort. "You know, from experience, what something like infidelity can do to a marriage and a family. How it can affect the children, and you don't want that for us."

"No," Beca says, looking at Rachel with clear eyes. "I don't want that for _myself_. I can't go through that again."

Rachel squeezes her shoulder, because _that_ is some kind of undeniable allusion to the role she and Quinn seem to be playing in Beca's life. "I promise it won't happen."

"I'm sure my father made the same promises."

"I'm sure he did," Rachel agrees; "but I'm not your father. I - I am so sickeningly in love with my wife. I wouldn't put myself through prejudice and judgment and constant questioning over our choices if I wasn't with my forever person. I am not about to jeopardise that, and definitely not for Jesse St James. Or anyone else, for that matter. Not even for those famous people Quinn would give me a Pass on."

Beca watches her for another moment. "I'm sorry," she says. "I don't mean to question your integrity or whatever. I just - he _broke_ her, you know? He shredded her heart, and I'm sure I know only the half of it." She sighs. "I wish you and Quinn got the chance to meet her."

"God, me too," Rachel immediately says, shoulders dropping. "What I would give to meet the person who made you who you are. She has to have been special to end up with you."

Beca blushes so brightly that Rachel worries she might actually combust. "Dude. What are you even asking about?

Rachel just laughs, directing their attention back to the song, but that lasts only twelve minutes before Rachel says, "Chloe knows about you and Quinn."

Here, Rachel stills, because her new knowledge of Chloe makes any talk of her with regards to Beca tricky. She and Quinn haven't had the time to talk more about it, and she's not sure they actually will. They're not in the habit of discussing students by name.

"She does," Rachel finally says. "We met her when we were dropping off my father."

Beca won't look at her. "Did she seem - was she okay?"

"With regards to learning Quinn and I are married, or just in general?"

"Both."

Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking hard. "She seems good about it," she says. "It also seemed as if there were other things on her mind, though. Things that weren't exactly... joyful."

"She's sad," Beca confirms. "About her grandmother." She pauses. "And other things."

"We don't have to talk about it," Rachel offers. "Things she shares with you can remain yours."

"I just - I want to help her," Beca says, turning her entire chair to face Rachel. Her voice suddenly has a lot of emotion in it, and Rachel can just watch in fascination as the teenager loses herself a little. "It's all I want to do. I have this - it's this weird, overwhelming desire just to make things better. And I would do just about anything to make it happen."

Beca shakes her head in something like disbelief at herself, hands in tight fists in her lap. "I want to talk to her _constantly_ , but I don't want to annoy her. I just want to hear _her_ talk, about nothing at all. About he most mundane stuff, too. Like, what's for dinner or what she dreamt about while she napped. I want - I just want so many things." Her hands rise, unfurling, as she bursts out, "I want to write her music, Rachel!" She puffs out a breath. "I don't even _write_ music."

Rachel knows - knows without a doubt - what something like that means to people like her and a Beca. So, she stares, a little wide-eyed, because -

Dear God, Beca's fallen in love.


End file.
